BUTTON 


WADARLINGTON 


ALF'S 
BUTTON 


BY 


W.  A.  DARLINGTON 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


First  published  in  America  by 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPAHT 

in  1920 


FOREWORD 

IT  is  a  curious  fact  that  since  the  death  of  the  late 
lamented  Aladdin,  nothing  seems  to  have  been  heard 
of  his  wonderful  Lamp.  Mr.  Arthur  Collins  and 
other  students  of  ancient  lore  have  been  able,  after 
patient  research,  to  reconstruct  for  us  the  man  Alad- 
din in  his  habit  as  he  lived  and  to  place  before  crur 
eyes  a  faithful  picture  of  his  times.  Alike  in  litera- 
ture and  on  the  stage  the  Lamp  plays  an  all-import- 
ant part;  and  this  makes  it  all  the  more  strange  that 
its  subsequent  history  should  have  been  so  entirely 
lost. 

I  myself  incline  to  the  theory  that  Aladdin  allowed 
the  secret  of  his  talisman  to  die  with  him,  and  that 
his  widow  disposed  of  an  object  whose  presence  in 
her  husband's  collection  of  articles  of  "  bigotry  and 
virtue  "  she  had  always  resented,  for  what  it  would 
fetch.  Its  tradition  once  broken,  we  cannot  sup- 
pose that  an  old  battered  lamp  bearing  on  one  por- 
tion of  its  surface  a  half-effaced  inscription  in  for- 
gotten characters  would  attract  much  attention  as  an 
objet  d'art.  In  fact,  it  would  be  without  value  or 
interest  except  to  a  scholar  learned  enough  to  inter- 
pret the  inscription  aforesaid  —  which  may  be  ren- 
dered in  our  tongue  "  Rub  Lightly." 


2040828 


FOREWORD 

All  this,  however,  is  mere  conjecture.  It  is  based 
on  my  knowledge,  accidentally  gained,  that  a  lamp 
of  this  description  formed  part  of  a  job  lot  of 
"  assorted  curios  "  acquired  by  the  Government  with 
a  view  to  subsequent  reissue  in  the  form  of  buttons 
for  soldiers'  tunics.  This  fact,  taken  in  conjunction 
with  the  unusual  events  I  am  about  to  relate,  does 
lend  a  certain  color  to  the  theory  which  I  support; 
but  of  solid  proof  I  can  of  course  offer  nothing. 

Some  of  Alf  Higgins'  adventures  have  previously 
appeared  in  The  Passing  Show.  The  Editor  of 
that  paper,  by  the  interest  he  showed  in  Alf,  has 
incurred  the  grave  responsibility  of  encouraging  me 
to  write  this  book  about  him. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

FOREWORD ill 

I.  ALF  HIGGINS,  RUNNER i 

II.  ALF  CLEANS  His  BUTTONS 13 

III.  THE  MIRACLE  OF  THE  PLANES     ....  23 

IV.  THE  MISGUIDED  ZEAL  OF  EUSTACE    ...  36 
V.  EUSTACE  FETCHES  BEER 49 

VI.  ISOBEL'S  "  DREAM  " 62 

VII.  EUSTACE  ORDERS  A  BATH 80 

VIII.  BLIGHTY  FOR  Two 97 

IX.     LIEUTENANT   DONALDSON    BECOMES   SUSPI- 
CIOUS    115 

X.  EUSTACE  BLUNDERS  AGAIN 133 

XI.  THE  VICAR'S  WIFE  OUTRAGED     ....    149 

XII.  ALF  RECEIVES 167 

XIII.  P.  C.  JOBLING  INVESTIGATES 191 

XIV.  MR.  FARR'S  MISGUIDED  ZEAL 206 

XV.  THE  CAPTURE  OF  MASTER  BOBBY      .     .     .  229 

XVI.     MRS.  GRANT'S  DIPLOMACY 246 

XVII.    THE  FATE  OF  THE  BUTTON 263 


ALF'S  BUTTON 

CHAPTER  I 

ALF    HIGGINS,    RUNNER 

44T  TERY  well,  sergeant-major,  I  think  that's  the 
V  lot.  As  far  as  we  know,  we'll  take  over 
the  front  line  from  the  4th  Battalion  in  two 
days'  time.  I  want  you  to  warn  all  the  men  who 
aren't  coming  up  with  us  that  they  are  to  go  to  the 
Transport  lines  to-morrow." 

Captain  Richards,  commanding  "  C  "  Company 
of  the  5th  Battalion,  Middlesex  Fusiliers,  rose  to 
his  feet,  snapped  shut  his  company  roll-book  and 
stretched  himself.  Sergeant-Major  French,  slip- 
ping a  similar  though  less  immaculate  roll-book  into 
his  breast  pocket,  also  rose  to  his  feet  (nearly  bump- 
ing his  tin-hatted  head  against  the  roof  of  the  dug- 
out as  he  did  so)  and  saluted. 

"  Very  good,  sir.     Good  night." 

"  Good  night,  French.  Oh  —  one  moment.  I'd 
forgotten.  I  want  one  extra  runner  for  Company 
Headquarters.  Can  you  give  me  an  intelligent 
man?  " 

The  C.S.M.  considered. 

"  There's  only  'Iggins,  sir,"  he  said,  in  rather  a 


2  ALPS  BUTTON 

dubious  tone.     "  You  know  the  man,  sir  —  in  Mr. 
Allen's  platoon." 

Captain  Richards  laughed. 
"  You  can't  call  him  intelligent,  can  you?  " 
11  No,   sir.     But   nearly  every  man  in  the  com- 
pany's  fixed   with    a    job,    sir.     'Iggins    ain't   very 
bright,  an'  'e  won't  do  no  more  than  you  tell  'im. 
But  'e  won't  do  no  less,  neither.     'E's  a  good  sol- 
dier, and  what  'e's  told  to  do,  'e  does.     I  don't  think 
we  can  spare  anybody  better,  sir." 

"  All  right.  Send  him  down  to  see  me." 
Richards  was  left  to  his  thoughts,  though  he  was 
not  alone.  From  somewhere  in  the  dim  recesses 
of  the  dug-out  came  the  sound  of  deep  regular 
breathing,  showing  where  Lieutenant  Donaldson 
was  making  the  most  of  an  opportunity  for  rest. 
The  remaining  two  officers  of  "  C  "  Company  had 
been  out  all  day  reconnoitering  the  piece  of  front 
line  in  which  they  were  to  relieve  the  4th  Battalion, 
and  had  not  yet  returned.  Richards  found  himself 
wishing  that  they  would  appear.  For  one  thing,  he 
wanted  his  dinner;  and  for  another,  he  was  just  a 
shade  anxious,  though  he  would  not  for  worlds  have 
admitted  it.  Of  course,  reconnoitering  was  always  a 
long  job,  and  there  had  not  been  much  shelling  go- 
ing on  during  the  day.  Besides,  Denis  Allen  — 
senior  subaltern  of  the  battalion  and  next  on  the  list 
for  command  of  a  company  —  was  far  too  old  a 
hand  to  run  into  unnecessary  danger.  On  the  other 
hand,  little  Shaw  had  only  just  come  out  from  Eng- 


ALF  HIGGINS,  RUNNER  3 

land;  this  was  his  first  time  in  the  line,  and  he  was 
just  the  type  of  keen  young  thing  to  do  something 
foolish  out  of  ignorance  or  bravado. 

Richards  himself,  with  Donaldson  and  the  ser- 
geant-major, had  been  over  the  trenches  the  day 
before.  It  is  not  usual  for  all  the  officers  of  a  re- 
lieving company  to  see  the  ground  for  themselves; 
but  this  was  a  piece  of  line  quite  new  to  the  Home 
Counties'  Territorial  Division,  of  which  the  Mid- 
dlesex Fusiliers'  Brigade  formed  part.  The  author- 
ities therefore  had  deemed  it  advisable  to  use  even 
more  care  than  usual. 

It  was  bitterly  cold.  The  Great  Frost  of  Jan- 
uary and  February,  1917  —  the  coldest  spring  that 
France  had  known  for  a  period  of  years  variously 
estimated  at  twenty-one,  a  hundred  and  eight,  and 
intermediately  —  was  still  in  being.  Richards 
turned  up  the  collar  of  his  British  warm  and  longed 
for  soup.  He  was  just  considering  the  advisability 
of  shouting  to  the  servants  to  serve  his  dinner  at 
once,  when  there  came  a  trampling  on  the  stairs,  a 
metallic  clang,  and  some  picturesque  cursing.  A 
moment  later,  Denis  Allen  emerged  from  the  gloom, 
followed  by  little  Shaw. 

;'  Thank  God  for  my  tin  hat,"  said  Denis  piously. 
"  That's  about  the  only  thing  it's  good  for.  I'd 
have  brained  myself  long  ago  on  these  stairs  with- 
out it." 

He  divested  himself  of  the  article  in  question,  as 
also  of  his  equipment,  glasses  and  trench  coat;  these 


4  ALPS  BUTTON 

he  piled  upon  the  recumbent  form  of  Donaldson, 
bringing  that  warrior  to  a  sudden  and  profane  wake- 
fulness. 

"  Here,"  said  Allen  to  Shaw,  "  we  have  the  com- 
pany commander  sitting  at  home  in  luxurious  idle- 
ness, while  we  poor  blighters  do  his  work  for  him 
outside  in  the  cold.  If  you've  drunk  all  the  whisky, 
Dickie,  there's  going  to  be  a  mutiny.  I'm  simply 
perishing.  Where's  the  dinner?  " 

"  Here,  sir,"  said  Private  Corder,  the  senior  serv- 
ant, entering  with  the  soup. 

"  Bless  you,  Corder.  May  your  shadow  never 
grow  less." 

"  No,  sir.  Please,  sir,  Private  'Iggins  wants  to 
see  you,  sir." 

"Me?"  said  Richards.  "Oh,  yes,  of  course. 
Send  him  down  in  a  minute,  but  give  me  time  to 
finish  the  soup  first." 

He  warmed  his  fingers  round  the  steaming  mug. 

"  Well,  Denis,"  he  went  on.  "  How  did  you  like 
the  front  trenches  ?  " 

"  Fine.  Best  lot  I've  seen.  Top-hole  duck- 
boards,  good  dug-outs,  quiet  bit  of  line.  Couldn't 
be  better,  except  for  the  cold.  Shaw  here  was  most 
impressed,  and  said  he'd  like  to  have  shown  his 
mother  round  them." 

Second-Lieutenant  Shaw  grinned. 

'  Well,  she  gets  the  wind  up  rather,  you  see,"  he 
explained.  "  I  think  she  imagines  the  front  line 
with  a  perpetual  barrage  playing  on  it  like  a  garden 


ALF  HIGGINS,  RUNNER  5 

hose.  I  must  say  I  didn't  expect  to  see  it  quite  so 
peaceful  myself.  Or  so  clean  and  tidy." 

"  Ah,  that's  the  frost.  I  tell  you,  we've  been 
grousing  enough  lately  about  being  here  for  the 
hardest  frost  within  memory,  but  you've  got  to  re- 
member that  it  does  keep  the  water  frozen  up  in  the 
trench  walls.  Let's  pray  the  frost  doesn't  break 
while  we're  in  the  line." 

Allen  looked  suddenly  grave. 

"  I  did  notice  a  trickle  of  water  here  and  there 
to-day,"  he  said.  "  Dickie,  I'm  afraid  we're  in  for 
a  thaw.  We  shall  be  wading  up  in  gum-boots  in 
two  days,  you'll  see.  Here  comes  Higgins." 

A  nondescript  private,  with  a  straggling  mustache 
and  a  pair  of  round,  childish  blue  eyes,  came  into 
the  light  and  saluted. 

"  Oh,  Higgins,"  said  Captain  Richards,  "  you're 
to  join  Company  Headquarters  as  a  runner.  D'you 
know  the  job?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.     Carryin'  messages." 

"  Yes.  Well,  now,  I  was  only  told  to-day  that 
I'd  to  have  an  extra  one,  otherwise  you'd  have  been 
sent  up  with  the  rest  to  look  round.  However, 
you'd  better  take  my  trench  map  away  with  you  and 
study  the  lie  of  the  land  from  it.  You  can  read  a 
map,  I  suppose?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"Not  at  all?" 

"  No,  sir." 

11  Good  Heavens,  I  asked  for  an  intell  —  how- 


6  ALFS  BUTTON 

ever,  there's  nobody  else.  That  will  do,  then,  Hig- 
gins.  Report  to  me  before  we  move  off,  and  do  your 
best." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Private  Alfred  Higgins  departed,  marveling  at 
the  strange  chance  that  had  elevated  him  to  this 
responsible  post.  He  was  not  sure  whether  he  was 
pleased  or  otherwise.  A  runner's  is  a  business  ad- 
mitting of  startling  variations.  In  a  quiet  sector 
of  the  line  there  may  be  no  messages  to  take,  or  at 
least  no  shells  to  dodge  in  the  process ;  but  in  a  lively 
part  of  the  front  the  runner's  job  is  the  most  con- 
sistently perilous  of  all.  Besides  this,  Alf  Higgins 
had  always  considered  it  the  wisest  plan  to  steer 
carefully  clear  of  those  in  authority.  As  a  runner, 
he  would  be  in  constant  personal  touch  with  his 
officer. 

He  returned  to  his  mates  with  mixed  feelings,  and 
confided  his  news  to  his  bosom  pal,  Bill  Grant,  who 
deeply  offended  him  by  roaring  with  laughter  at  the 
mere  idea. 

As  for  Sergeant  Lees,  Lieutenant  Allen's  second 
in  command  of  No.  9  Platoon,  he  seemed  to  regard 
Higgins'  latest  employment  as  marking  the  begin- 
ning of  the  end. 

"  If  'Iggins  is  a  bright,  intelligent  man  for  a  run- 
ner," he  remarked  bitterly,  "  I  may  be  a  blinkin' 
brigadier  yet." 

Lieutenant  Allen's  gloomy  weather  predictions 
duly  came  to  pass.  When  the  battalion  moved  up 


ALF  HIGGINS,  RUNNER  7 

the  thaw  had  begun  in  earnest.  The  water  so  long 
imprisoned  streamed  out  of  the  walls  of  the  trenches, 
and  the  disgusted  men  found  themselves  committed 
to  wading  five  miles  through  communication  trenches 
already  a  foot  deep  in  water.  This  water  grew 
visibly  deeper  as  they  went  forward,  till  progress 
became  difficult  and  most  exhausting.  Richards, 
plugging  along  doggedly  in  front  of  his  company 
with  the  guide  from  the  4th  Battalion,  looked  at  his 
watch  when  they  had  covered  half  the  distance  and 
found  that  they  were  already  an  hour  overdue.  He 
hated  being  late  with  a  relief,  but  greater  speed  was 
impossible.  As  the  flow  of  water  increased,  the 
sides  of  the  trenches  began  to  fall  in ;  the  earth  thus 
mixed  with  the  water  thickened  it  to  a  consistency 
which  might  be  likened  to  very  rich  soup,  and  the 
pace  grew  slower  still. 

Now  and  then  a  dark  cavern  would  yawn  sud- 
denly beside  them,  and  a  ghostly  glimmer  in  the 
bowels  of  the  earth  would  show  an  inhabited  dug- 
out; and  as  the  relieving  party  squelched  slowly  past, 
the  water  in  the  trench  would  be  forced  above  the 
level  of  the  dug-out  entrance,  and  would  flow  thun- 
dering down  the  staircase  like  a  miniature  Niagara. 
Terrible  objurgations  from  beneath  would  express 
the  inmost  thoughts  of  some  weary  warrior  rudely 
awakened  from  sleep  by  the  impact  of  a  cold  wave 
of  muddy  water  against  the  back  of  his  neck.  Sym- 
pathetic, but  powerless  to  avoid  continuous  repeti- 
tion of  the  offense,  the  company  plodded  on. 


6  ALPS  BUTTON 

At  last,  four  hours  behind  the  time  fixed,  a  husky 
voice  out  of  the  darkness  informed  Richards  that  he 
had  reached  his  destination. 

Some  time  elapsed  before  everything  had  been 
satisfactorily  handed  over  and  explained  to  the  in- 
coming company,  but  at  last  the  4th  men  splashed 
thankfully  off  —  to  cause  another  series  of  Niagaras 
to  descend  upon  the  indignant  warrior  aforesaid  — 
leaving  Captain  Richards  entirely  responsible  for 
several  hundred  yards  of  the  British  front. 

It  was  at  this  point,  when  the  Company  Head- 
quarters went  off  to  their  comparatively  dry  dug- 
out, leaving  the  rest  of  the  company  to  their  miser- 
able vigil  on  the  surface,  that  Private  Higgins 
realized  that  the  runner's  lot  can  be  a  very  happy 
one. 

This  opinion  grew  more  and  more  pronounced  as 
time  went  on.  Officers  relieved  each  other  in  the 
front  line,  coming  off  duty  covered  with  wet  clay 
nearly  to  the  waist  and  scraping  their  breeches  clean 
with  their  knives  before  lying  down  to  snatch  a  little 
rest ;  while  he  —  Higgins  —  lay  warm  and  dry,  with 
nothing  to  do  but  eat  and  sleep. 

All  was  quiet  up  above;  both  armies  were  far  too 
much  occupied  with  their  own  discomforts  to  think 
about  adding  to  those  of  their  adversaries.  Pos- 
sibly, thought  Higgins  in  a  flash  of  foolish  optimism, 
his  whole  four  days  might  be  spent  in  a  dry  dug-out, 
eating  and  sleeping.  But  he  must  have  omitted  to 


ALF  HIGGINS,  RUNNER  9 

touch  wood,  for  at  this  point  he  heard  his  name 
called. 

Captain  Richards  was  holding  in  his  hand  a  paper 
which  the  signaler  had  just  handed  to  him. 

"  Higgins,"  he  ordered.  "  Take  this  up  to  Mr. 
Donaldson  in  the  front  line  at  once,  and  bring  back 
an  answer.  It's  a  report  on  the  condition  of  the 
front  line  dug-outs.  Understand?" 

"Yessir!" 

"  Are  your  gum-boots  all  right?  " 

"Yessir!" 

"Right!     Carry  on!" 

Higgins  clambered  up  the  steps  to  the  surface. 
Before  he  stepped  over  the  dam  which  had  been 
constructed  round  the  dug-out  entrance,  he  glanced 
round.  The  complicated  canal  system,  which  had 
been  the  trenches,  looked  even  more  forbidding  by 
day  than  it  had  the  previous  night,  and  the  water 
looked  horribly  cold.  But  there  was  nothing  to  be 
gained  by  waiting,  and  he  waded  off  up  a  communica- 
tion trench.  Very  soon  he  found  himself  in  diffi- 
culties. The  trench  walls  had  continued  to  fall  in, 
with  the  consequence  that  in  places  the  thick  soup 
had  become  glue.  Once  or  twice  he  felt  his  foot 
sticking  in  the  viscous  stuff  that  had  collected  over 
the  duck-boards,  and  had  to  struggle  hard  before 
he  could  release  himself.  Suddenly,  without  warn- 
ing, he  struck  an  even  worse  patch.  Both  feet  were 
seized  and  held  as  in  a  vise.  He  fought  hard,  but 


10  ALPS  BUTTON 

only  sank  deeper.  At  last,  quite  exhausted,  he  felt 
his  feet  reach  the  duck-boards ;  and,  thankful  that  at 
least  he  could  sink  no  lower,  he  settled  down  with 
stoical  resignation  to  wait  till  some  one  should  come. 

But  an  hour  went  by,  and  nothing  happened ;  Hig- 
gins  began  to  be  hungry.  Possibly,  he  thought,  this 
particular  trench  had  been  found  impassable,  and 
traffic  directed  through  other  channels,  in  which  case 
he  might  never  be  found.  Appalled  by  this  idea,  he 
lifted  up  his  voice. 

"Hi!  "he  yelled.     "'Elp!" 

For  sole  answer,  a  German  "  fish-tail "  whirred 
overhead  and  burst  with  great  violence  not  far 
away.  His  own  side  remained  as  quiet  as  the 
grave. 

Higgins  began  to  lose  his  head. 

"  'Elp !  'Elp !  "  he  bawled,  a  note  of  panic  in  his 
voice. 

"  There  now,  duckie !  "  came  in  soothing  accents 
from  round  the  corner  in  front  of  him.  "  Mum- 
mie's  comin' !  What  the  'ell's  the  matter?  " 

A  gum-booted,  leather-jerkined  private  came 
slowly  into  view. 

"  Why,"  he  exclaimed,  "  it's  old  Alf !  Thought 
you  was  on  G.H.Q.  staff,  'elpin'  'Aig,  Alf.  What's 
all  the  row  about?  " 

"  Bringin'  a  message  up  to  the  orficer,  an'  I  got 
stuck.  Been  'ere  hours,  I  'ave." 

"  Stuck  in  the  '  Glue-Pot,'  that's  what  you  'ave, 
ole  son,"  said  Private  Bill  Grant  cheerfully.  "  You 


ALF  HIGGINS,  RUNNER  11 

must  'ave  been  a  mug  to  use  this  way.  Every  one's 
usin'  number  One-Eight-Oh  now;  it's  deeper,  but 
not  so  sticky.  The  officer  brought  that  message  up 
'isself  when  'e  came  on  dooty.  They  was  sayin' 
some  nice  things  about  you,  I  don't  think.  You're 
in  for  it,  you  are,  when  you  gets  out  o'  that." 

Higgins  was  past  caring. 

"  'Ere,  Bill,  can't  you  pull  me  out?  "  he  pleaded. 

"  Not  if  I  knows  it.  That's  the  Glue-Pot  you're 
in.  If  I  started  pullin'  you  out,  I'd  get  stuck  there 
meself,  that's  all.  You'll  'ave  to  stop  till  arter  dark, 
an'  we'll  come  along  over  the  top  and  'ave  yer  out 
with  a  rope.  So  long." 

The  unfeeling  Bill  kissed  his  not  over-clean  hand 
and  disappeared  round  the  corner.  Silence  — 
broken  occasionally  by  the  sharp  crack  of  a  rifle 
bullet  or  the  explosion  of  a  casual  shell  —  settled 
down  once  more.  Higgins  sank  into*  a  kind  of 
stupor.  .  .  . 

"Hist!"  said  a  slightly  dramatic  voice  above 
him,  and  he  woke  to  a  consciousness  that  darkness 
had  fallen,  and  that  the  rescue  party  was  at  hand. 

"That  you,  sergeant?"  he  asked  joyfully. 

"  Not  so  loud,  you  blinkin'  fool!  "  whispered  Ser- 
geant Lees  fervently.  "  It  ain't  daylight  now. 
The  Boche  'as  the  wind  up  proper,  an'  if  'e  'ears 
you  there'll  be  'ell  on.  Catch  'old  o'  this  rope. 
Now  then,  lads,  ready?  'Eave!  " 

Higgins  felt  the  rope  tighten.     Then  came  an  al- 


12  ALFS  BUTTON 

most  intolerable  strain  on  his  body  as  the  six  panting 
figures  up  above  opposed  their  joint  strength  to  the 
passive  resistance  of  his  firmly-embedded  gum-boots. 
Something  had  to  give  somewhere.  That  something 
turned  out  to  be  Higgins'  old  pair  of  braces,  which 
had  been  forced  to  undertake  the  support  of  the 
said  boots  in  addition  to  their  usual  responsibility. 
They  snapped  suddenly.  The  tug-of-war  party  col- 
lapsed in  a  heap,  and  Alf  shot  into  the  air  like  a  cork 
from  a  champagne-bottle  (leaving  his  trousers  be- 
hind him)  and  fell  again  into  the  trench  beside  his 
tenantless  and  immovable  boots. 

He  owed  it  to  the  quick  wit  of  Sergeant  Lees  that 
he  did  not  become  bogged  once  more.  His  legs 
were  already  sinking  in  the  ooze  of  the  Glue-Pot 
when  the  sergeant  leaned  over,  seized  him  by  the  coat 
collar  and  dragged  him  up  by  main  force,  just  as  his 
jacket  split  along  its  whole  length  with  a  rending 
sound.  A  Boche  machine-gunner,  much  alarmed  at 
the  highly  unusual  sounds  proceeding  from  the  Brit- 
ish lines,  began  to  enquire  into  the  matter.  The 
shell-hole  into  which  Alf  rolled  for  safety  happened 
to  be  full  of  filthy  water,  icy  cold. 


CHAPTER  II 

ALF   CLEANS    HIS   BUTTONS 

WHEN  the  battalion  moved  out  of  the  line  the 
appearance  of  Private  Higgins  could  not  be 
described  as  smart.  The  only  person  who  at- 
tempted to  describe  it  at  all  was  the  company  ser- 
geant-major; he  did  it  rather  well. 

Higgins  did  not  spend  the  remainder  of  his  tour 
of  duty  in  the  condition  of  indecorous  discomfort  in 
which  he  was  hauled  from  the  Glue-Pot.  On  crawl- 
ing out  of  his  shell-hole,  he  first  rescued  his  trousers 
with  some  difficulty  from  inside  his  derelict  thigh- 
boots,  and  then  made  his  way  to  the  dressing-station 
—  a  large  dug-out  —  where  he  was  dried  and  his 
torn  jacket  was  roughly  repaired.  For  the  rest  of 
his  time  he  wore  the  felt-lined  leather  jerkin  which 
he  had  forgotten  to  take  with  him  on  his  former 
adventure ;  but  as  luck  would  have  it  he  was  not  re- 
quired on  any  further  errand. 

The  battalion  left  its  trenches  —  handed  over 
thankfully  to  the  North  Surreys  —  about  midnight, 
eight  days  after  it  had  moved  in.  Its  numbers,  in 
spite  of  the  mildness  of  Fritz,  had  been  sadly  de- 
pleted. All  precautions  notwithstanding,  a  large 
number  of  men  had  succumbed  to  trench  feet,  and 

13 


i4  ALFS  BUTTON 

the  remainder  could  scarcely  do  more  than  crawl. 
They  made  their  way  painfully  as  far  as  the  reserve 
trenches,  and  next  day  they  reached  a  village  some 
miles  behind  the  line,  where  they  found  themselves 
in  quite  comfortable  billets  —  the  men  in  huts,  the 
officers  in  farms  and  cottages.  The  hut  allotted  to 
"  C  "  Company  contained  a  complicated  erection  in 
wood  and  wire-netting,  which  provided  two  tiers  of 
bedsteads  down  almost  the  entire  length  of  each 
side.  There  was,  however,  a  small  space  at  one  end, 
screened  off  with  waterproof  sheets;  this  was  ap- 
propriated to  the  joint  use  of  the  C.S.M.  and  the 
C.Q.M.S. 

As  soon  as  the  battalion  was  settled  in,  the  usual 
business  began  of  repairing  the  ravages  of  the 
trenches  and  transforming  a  crew  of  ragged,  bearded 
scaramouches  back  into  self-respecting  members  of 
a  smart  regiment. 

Captain  Richards  paraded  his  company  in  front 
of  its  billet,  and  surveyed  it  more  in  sorrow  than  in 
anger.  He  himself  and  his  officers  had  managed,  in 
some  wonderful  way,  to  turn  themselves  out  as  spot- 
less as  if  they  had  just  strolled  in  from  Piccadilly. 
But  they  had  the  advantage  over  the  men  of  carry- 
ing spare  suits  of  clothes  in  their  valises,  and  of  pos- 
sessing servants. 

"  Well,  *  C '  Company,"  remarked  its  Com- 
mander. "  The  quartermaster  is  going  to  take  you 
in  hand  this  afternoon,  and  I  don't  envy  him  his  job. 
You'll  hand  in  your  tin  hats  and  your  jerkins,  and 


ALF  CLEANS  HIS  BUTTONS  15 

you'll  draw  service  caps,  badges  and  shoulder-titles. 
Those  of  you  who  need  new  things  must  take  the 
opportunity  of  getting  them.  Private  Higgins,  for 
instance,  needs  a  new  tunic." 

There  was  a  roar  of  laughter,  for  Higgins'  mis- 
adventure in  the  communication  trench  was  the  com- 
pany's latest  family  joke. 

"  I  see,"  continued  Richards,  grinning,  "  that  he's 
mended  his  old  one  with  a  piece  of  rope.  Well,  that 
won't  do  for  me  after  to-day.  To-morrow  I  expect 
to  see  the  company  something  like  itself.  March 
'em  off,  Sergeant-Major  French;  I'll  be  coming  along 
shortly." 

Clothing  parade  was  a  lengthy  business.  Most 
of  the  battalion  seemed  to  need  clothes,  and  the 
quartermaster's  overworked  staff  appeared  to  re- 
gard each  new  application  as  a  personal  insult.  At 
last  Higgins  obtained  his  new  tunic,  and  started  back 
to  his  billet  with  this  and  his  other  issues.  On 
the  way  he  passed  a  small  cottage  marked  "  Es- 
taminet  " ;  he  entered  and  indulged  in  a  miniature 
orgy  of  very  light  French  beer. 

It  was  getting  late  when  he  reached  the  billet, 
and  in  order  to  make  the  most  of  the  fading  light 
he  sat  down  outside  the  hut  to  bring  the  buttons  of 
his  new  jacket  to  a  condition  fit  to  be  inspected  by 
C.S.M.  French  on  the  following  morning. 

He  made  an  excellent  job  of  the  top  button  and 
then,  recharging  his  tooth-brush  (presented  to  him 
for  quite  another  purpose  by  a  paternal  government) 


16  ALF'S  BUTTON 

with  polish,  he  prepared  to  tackle  the  second.  But 
the  instant  he.  touched  it  there  wa-s  a  sudden  roaring 
sound,  and  a  strange  hot  wind  sprang  up,  tossing 
into  the  air  a  swirling  column  of  dust  which  half 
choked  Alf  and  wholly  blinded  him.  He  dropped 
tooth-brush,  polish  and  tunic  to  the  ground  and 
clapped  his  hands  to  his  agonized  eyes. 

The  wind  died  down  again  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
come,  and  the  swirling  dust  settled;  and  there  came 
to  Alf,  still  struggling  to  empty  his  streaming  eyes 
of  pieces  of  grit,  an  eerie  sense  that  he  was  not  alone. 
Some  presence  was  beside  him  —  something  that  he 
must  clear  his  eyes  and  look  at,  yet  dreaded  to  see. 

Suddenly  a  sepulchral  voice  spoke. 

"What  wouldst  thou  have?"  it  said. 

Alf  felt  that  he  must  see,  or  go  mad.  With  his 
two  hands  he  opened  an  inflamed  eye  —  and  with 
great  difficulty  restrained  himself  from  uttering  a 
loud  yell  of  terror.  He  was  confronted  by  a  huge 
and  hideous  being  of  a  type  he  had  believed  to  exist 
only  in  the  disordered  imaginations  of  story-tellers. 
The  being,  seeing  that  he  had  Alf's  undivided  — 
even  petrified  —  attention,  bowed  impressively. 

"What  wouldst  thou  have?"  he  repeated  in  a 
deep,  booming  voice.  "  I  am  ready  to  obey  thee  as 
thy  slave,  and  the  slave  of  any  who  have  that  But- 
ton in  their  possession;  I,  and  the  other  slaves  of  the 
Button." 

"  Gawd !  "  exclaimed  Alf,  in  horror.  "  Strike  me 
pink!" 


ALF  CLEANS  HIS  BUTTONS  17 

The  strange  being  looked  surprised,  but  bowed  yet 
lower. 

"  To  be  stricken  pink?  Verily  my  Lord's  request 
is  strange !  Nevertheless,  his  wish  is  my  com- 
mand." 

He  disappeared. 

Alf  stared  open-mouthed  at  the  spot  where  the 
apparition  had  stood.  Then  in  a  sudden  panic  at 
what  he  took  to  be  the  effect  of  French  beer  after 
the  enforced  abstemiousness  of  the  trenches,  he 
rushed  into  the  hut  and  rolled  himself  up  in  his 
blanket.  He  felt  at  once  aggrieved  and  frightened; 
for  he  was  not  drunk  nor  even  exhilarated,  and  yet 
he  had  got  to  the  far  more  advanced  stage  of  "  see- 
ing things."  He  gave  no  answer  to  any  enquiries 
after  his  health  nor  any  other  sign  of  life  until  the 
orderly  sergeant  came  round  at  reveille  next  morn- 
ing. 

"  Now  then,  Tggins,  show  a  leg,"  said  the 
N.C.O. 

Higgins  had  been  awake  for  some  time.  He  felt 
all  right,  and  had  already  assured  himself  by  a  cau- 
tious glance  round  that  he  was  no  longer  seeing  de- 
mons. He  sat  up,  and  flung  his  blankets  cheerfully 
from  him. 

"  Right-o,  sergeant,"  he  said. 

The  sergeant's  eyes  bulged.  All  that  could  be 
seen  of  Higgins  —  his  face,  hands  and  the  part  of 
his  neck  and  chest  not  covered  by  his  shirt  —  was 
one  glorious  shade  of  salmon-pink,  shining  and 


i8  ALPS  BUTTON 

glossy  as  if  from  the  application  of  a  coat  of  Mr. 
Aspinall's  best  enamel. 

"  Come  out  o'  that,  quick!  "  said  Sergeant  Ander- 
son, retreating  hastily.  "  Corporal  Spink,  take  this 
man  along  to  the  M.O.  at  once  —  don't  wait  for 
sick  parade.  It's  measles  and  scarlet  fever  and 
smallpox  and  nettlerash  all  mixed  up,  you've  got,  me 
lad.  'Ere,  keep  yer  distance." 

The  regimental  M.O.,  nonplused  and  frightened, 
at  once  got  into  touch  with  the  Field  Ambulance  and 
had  Higgins  —  now  in  the  last  stage  of  panic  and 
convinced  that  his  end  was  near  —  removed  to  a 
Casualty  Clearing  Station.  Then  he  descended  on 
"  C  "  Company's  billet  with  some  pungent  form  of 
chemical  disinfectant,  and  rendered  that  erstwhile 
happy  home  utterly  uninhabitable.  The  company, 
spluttering  and  swearing,  tumbled  out  and  ate  its 
breakfast  shivering  in  the  open.  If  threats  and 
curses  could  kill,  Alf  would  have  been  a  dead  man 
fifty  times  over. 

On  his  arrival  at  the  C.C.S.  his  clothes  were  taken 
from  him,  and  he  was  isolated  for  observation  in  a 
small  ward;  and  a  keen  young  medical  prac- 
titioner named  Browne  —  temporary  captain  in  the 
R.A.M.C. —  undertook  his  extraordinary  case. 

On  finding  that  he  did  not  immediately  die,  Alf 
recovered  his  normal  spirits,  and  for  a  week  he 
thoroughly  enjoyed  himself.  He  was  a  public  char- 
acter —  all  the  medical  officers  within  reach  came 


ALF  CLEANS  HIS  BUTTONS  19 

and  shook  their  heads  over  him.  He  felt  perfectly 
well;  his  pulse  and  temperature  were  from  the  first 
normal;  but  his  hue  remained  undimmed.  An  old 
doctor  who  chanced  to  arrive  when  Higgins  was  hav- 
ing his  midday  meal,  got  out  his  notebook  and  en- 
tered "  Abnormally  voracious  appetite  "  as  a  salient 
symptom  of  the  new  disease;  but  this  was  a  mistake. 
In  fact,  no  further  symptoms  of  any  kind  developed; 
and  in  the  end  Captain  Browne,  in  despair,  deter- 
mined to  give  up  the  case  and  to  send  Alf  to  see  a 
noted  skin-specialist  at  the  Base. 

Accordingly  Higgins'  clothes  (smelling  strongly 
of  some  distressing  fumigatory)  were  brought  to 
him,  and  he  was  told  to  get  ready  for  his  journey. 
Observing  with  displeasure  that  the  effect  of  fumiga- 
tion had  been  to  turn  his  brasswork  nearly  black,  he 
produced  cleaning  materials  and  got  to  work  to 
remedy  this. 

At  the  first  touch  he  gave  to  his  second  button, 
once  more  that  awful  apparition  arose  before  him, 
and  the  same  sepulchral  voice  was  heard. 

"  What  wouldst  thou  have?  I  am  ready  to  serve 
thee  as  thy  slave,  and  the  slave  of  any  who  have  that 
Button  in  their  possession;  I,  and  the  other  slaves 
of  the  Button." 

Alf's  mind  was  whirling.  He  had  by  now  half 
forgotten  his  previous  sight  of  this  supernatural 
visitor,  or  rather  had  accounted  for  it  satisfactorily 
in  his  mwd.  But  no  theory  of  intoxication  could 


20  ALPS  BUTTON 

hold  good  on  this  occasion,  for  Alf's  only  drink  for 
the  past  week  had  been  tea.  The  emotion  upper- 
most in  his  mind,  however,  was  fear  that  the  doctor 
might  come  in  and  find  the  being  there.  He  there- 
fore sat  up  in  bed  and  gasped  out : 

"'Op  it!" 

With  a  puzzled  expression  on  his  hideous  coun- 
tenance, the  being  began  slowly  and  with  obvious 
reluctance  to  disappear.  He  seemed  to  be  doubting 
the  evidence  of  his  ears. 

"  'Ere,  I  say,"  called  out  Alf  suddenly,  as  an  idea 
struck  him.  "  Arf  a  mo' !  " 

The  being,  who  was  still  just  visible  as  a  faint 
murkiness  in  the  atmosphere,  took  shape  again  with 
alacrity. 

"  What  wouldst  thou  have?  "  he  began  once  more. 
"  I  am  ready  to  obey  thee  as  thy  slave  and  the 
slave.  .  .  ." 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Alf,  who  was  in  terror  of  the 
possible  advent  of  the  doctor.  '  You  said  all  that 
before.  What  I  want  to  know  is,  was  it  you  that 
turned  me  this  ruddy  color?  " 

"  Verily,  O  Master,  the  color  is  not  the  color  of 
blood;  and  indeed,  with  thine  own  lips  thou  didst 
command  me  to  strike  thee  pink!  " 

u  Lumme !  "  said  Alf,  light  breaking  in  upon  him 
at  last.  "  Well,  if  that's  your  idea  of  a  joke,  it  ain't 
mine,  that's  all.  You  can  just  blinkin'  well  think 
again,  if  you  want  to  make  me  laugh.  See?  " 

"  Thy  wish,"  said  the  Spirit,  to  whom  Alf's  idio- 


ALF  CLEANS  HIS  BUTTONS          21 

matic  speech  was  just  so  much  gibberish,  "  is  my 
command.  What  wouldst  thou  have  ?  I  am  ready 
to  obey.  .  .  ." 

"  Stop  it,"  said  Alf  in  acute  apprehension,  his  eye 
on  the  door.  "  Didn't  you  'ear  what  I  said?  Put 
me  right,  for  the  Lord's  sake,  and  then  'op  it,  quick. 
I  can  'ear  the  doc.  comin'." 

Captain  Browne  entered.  He  was  in  a  very  de- 
spondent frame  of  mind.  He  was  a  keen  and  am- 
bitious young  man,  and  his  failure  to  make  any 
impression  on  Higgins'  condition  had  been  a  great 
blow  to  his  pride.  Sorely  against  his  will  he  was 
now  about  to  own  himself  defeated. 

He  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

There  was  an  instant's  pause.  Then  the  officer, 
without  a  change  of  countenance,  spoke  quietly. 

"  Ah !  "  he  said.  "  Then  my  last  treatment  has 
had  the  effect  I  hoped  for.  It's  a  cure.  You 
needn't  go  to  the  Base,  after  all." 

The  cure  of  Higgins'  malady  brought  to  Captain 
Browne  much  honor  and  renown.  He  became  the 
first  and  sole  authority  on  what  came  to  be  known 
as  u  Browne's  Disease  " ;  several  thoughtful  essays 
from  his  pen  appeared  in  the  foremost  medical  jour- 
nals, detailing  the  course  of  the  disease,  the  method 
of  its  cure,  and  the  mental  processes  which  had  led 
to  the  evolution  of  that  cure.  He  was  asked  to  con- 
tribute an  article  on  the  same  subject  to  a  medical 
encyclopaedia.  Finally,  he  was  mentioned  in  dis- 
patches. 


22  ALFS  BUTTON 

An  order  from  the  distant  heights  of  the  surgeon- 
general's  staff  was  circulated  to  all  medical  officers, 
ordering  them  to  forward  weekly  a  return  of  the 
number  of  men  under  their  care  suffering  from 
Browne's  Disease.  But  neither  they  nor  the  dis- 
tinguished inventor  himself  could  find  any.  This 
was  the  more  unfortunate  because,  if  only  he  had 
been  able  to  find  another  authentic  case  of  the 
malady,  he  might  have  looked  forward  to  Harley 
Street  and  a  fashionable  practice  after  the  war. 
But  in  any  case,  his  name,  if  not  his  fortune,  was 
made. 

As  for  Alf,  he  returned  at  once  to  his  battalion, 
where  he  gave  unsatisfactory  answers  to  all  ques- 
tions. He  was  a  man  of  little  imagination,  but  it 
seemed  that  he  was  now  in  his  own  case  beginning 
to  link  up  cause  with  effect.  At  all  events  he  re- 
frained for  as  long  as  possible  from  cleaning  his 
second  tunic-button,  and  might  have  been  seen  now 
and  again  regarding  it  with  awe  not  unmixed  with 
alarm. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   MIRACLE   OF   THE   PLANES 

WHEN  Alf  reached  the  5th  Battalion  once 
more,  he  found  it  transformed.  All  signs 
of  trench  life  had  disappeared,  and  the  men  were 
recovering  their  swing  and  swagger.  True,  they 
looked  a  little  harassed,  but  that  was  only  natural 
seeing  that  they  were  in  the  middle  of  one  of  the 
periods  of  strenuous  activity  humorously  known  to 
those  in  authority  as  "  rest." 

His  mates  accepted  Alf's  reappearance  among 
them  without  surprise  —  almost  without  comment. 
The  fact  that  he  had  been  in  hospital  suffering  from 
a  hitherto  unknown  disease  did  not  excite  them  at 
all.  Such  men  as  did  mention  the  matter  took  it  for 
granted  that  he  had  had  some  new  form  of  "  trench 
fever."  (Every  malady  developed  at  the  front 
which  is  not  immediately  recognizable  is  disposed 
of  by  popular  rumor  under  this  convenient  heading.) 

This  particular  "  rest  "  was  expected  to  last  still 
another  fortnight  when  Higgins  reported.  The  first 
week  was  to  be  devoted  to  a  stiff  training  program, 
while  the  second  was  to  embrace  an  equally  energetic 
period  of  athletic  competitions  and  games.  Within 
an  hour  of  his  arrival  the  disgusted  private  found 

23 


24  ALFS  BUTTON 

himself  swooped  upon  by  various  enthusiasts  and 
engaged  to  go  into  strict  training  at  once,  with  a 
view  to  representing  the  platoon  at  football  and  the 
company  in  a  cross-country  race  the  following  week. 
Practice  games  and  trial  runs  were  arranged  to  dove- 
tail into  each  other  with  devilish  ingenuity,  until  Alf 
began  to  consider  the  advisability  of  rubbing  this 
mysterious  button  of  his  and  obtaining  a  relapse. 

He  was  unimaginative,  and  the  vast  possibilities 
latent  in  the  magic  button  had  not  even  begun  to 
unfold  themselves  before  his  mind.  One  of  his 
chief  characteristics  was  a  reluctance  to  mix  himself 
up  in  matters  he  did  not  understand.  He  felt  that 
in  meddling  twice  already  with  supernatural  and 
probably  diabolical  powers  he  had  been  very  lucky 
to  get  off  scot  free;  and  the  mere  idea  of  ever  en- 
countering that  fearsome  being  again  filled  him  with 
apprehension.  He  avoided  touching  the  mysterious 
button  at  all,  either  for  cleaning  or  any  other  pur- 
pose. 

But  this  state  of  things  could  not  last.  Lieuten- 
ant Allen  was  no  martinet,  but  it  was  not  many  days 
before  he  stopped  before  Alf  on  parade  and  surveyed 
him  with  disfavor. 

"  This  won't  do,  Higgins,"  he  said.  "  Your 
brasswork  is  a  disgrace.  Look  at  that  button! 
You  will  clean  that  up  the  moment  you  get  off  parade 
this  morning,  and  I'll  have  a  look  at  it  this  after- 
noon. See?" 

"  Yessir !  "  said  Higgins  dutifully.     But  he  did 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  THE  PLANES      25 

not  see  in  the  least  what  was  to  be  done.  He  could 
not  leave  his  button  untouched  after  what  the  officer 
had  said,  and  he  did  not  dare  to  clean  it.  In  his 
efforts  to  solve  this  problem,  he  went  through  his 
drill  movements  with  an  air  of  preoccupation  which 
excited  Sergeant  Lees  to  the  verge  of  apoplexy.  But 
he  had  his  reward  in  an  idea  of  —  for  him  —  sur- 
passing brilliance. 

Army  custom  decrees  that  when  a  soldier  in  uni- 
form goes  into  mourning,  he  shall  proclaim  the  fact 
to  the  world  by  covering  the  second  button  of  his 
tunic  with  crepe,  or  some  other  black  material.  Ob- 
viously, then,  Higgins'  easiest  way  out  of  his  di- 
lemma was  to  kill  some  non-existent  relative.  His 
difficulty  thus  settled,  he  began  to  apply  his  mind  to 
the  business  in  hand  just  in  time  to  save  the  ser- 
geant's sanity. 

The  parade  finished,  Higgins  set  out  to  find 
C.Q.M.S.  Piper.  That  important  personage  was 
conferring  deeply  with  the  company  commander  on 
some  subject  connected  with  the  issue  of  rum,  and 
Higgins  had  to  wait;  as  bad  luck  would  have  it,  by 
the  time  the  conference  was  ended  Sergeant-Major 
French  had  come  up  and  was  standing  within  easy 
earshot.  Alf  tried  to  pitch  his  voice  so  that  the 
sergeant-major  should  not  overhear  him,  and  only 
succeeded  in  defeating  his  own  end  by  becoming  com- 
pletely inaudible. 

"  Quarters,"  he  said,  "  can  you  give  me  a  ee  oh 
ackuff?" 


26  ALF'S  BUTTON 

"  Now  then,  my  lad !  "  roared  Piper,  in  a  voice 
which  commanded  the  instant  attention  of  every- 
body in  the  hut,  "  don't  whisper  sweet  nothings  to 
me.  Spit  it  out!  What  d'yer  want?  Piece  o' 
what?" 

Amid  general  interest  the  defeated  strategist  re- 
peated his  request. 

"  Bit  of  black  stuff,  Quarters." 

"  Bit  o'  black  stuff?     What  for?  " 

"  To  go  into  mourning.      My  uncle's  dead." 

"  Ho!  "  intervened  C.S.M.  French,  suddenly  wak- 
ing to  the  full  significance  of  Higgins'  request. 
"  Yer  uncle's  dead,  is  'e?  'Ow  d'yer  know  that?  " 

"  I  'ad  a  letter  this  mornin',  major." 

"Ho!  Well  now,  that's  funny;  because  there 
'asn't  been  no  bloomin'  mail  in  since  Friday.  An' 
as  for  mournin',  your  bloomin'  button's  gone  into 
mournin'  already,  without  needin'  no  black  stuff.  I 
never  saw  nothing  like  it!  Now,  look  'ere,  'Iggins, 
I  'card  Mr.  Allen  tickin'  you  off  about  it,  this 
mornin',  and  it  looks  to  me  as  if  you're  tryin'  on  a 
bit  of  a  game.  Yer  uncle  may  be  dead  or  'e  may 
not,  but  before  the  quartermaster  gives  yer  a  bit  o' 
black,  you've  gotter  show  me  that  button  so  bright 
that  I  can  see  me  blinkin'  face  in  it.  Now,  get  a 
move  on !  " 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  The  button  had  to  be 
cleaned,  this  once  at  any  rate.  Afterwards  Higgins 
could  mourn  his  uncle  without  ceasing,  and  spirits 
from  the  vasty  deep  need  no  longer  form  an  essential 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  THE  PLANES      27 

part    of    his    matutinal    preparations    for    parr.  u.-. 

As  soon  as  dinners  had  been  dished  out,  Higgtiis 
put  on  his  kit,  took  his  rifle,  and  slipped  away  to  a 
quiet  spot  where  a  small  mound  screened  him  from 
observation  from  the  camp,  though  it  did  not  pre- 
vent him  from  keeping  a  look-out.  There  was  still 
a  full  hour  before  parade.  He  sat  down,  and  after 
a  moment  or  two  spent  in  summoning  his  courage  he 
produced  his  button-stick  and  began  to  polish  his 
button.  He  did  not  even  look  up  when  a  sepulchral 
voice  gave  evidence  that  the  dreaded  Being  had  ap- 
peared. 

"  What  wouldst  thou  have?  I  am  ready  to  serve 
thee  as  thy  slave,  and  the  slave  of  any  that  have  that 
Button  in  their  possession;  I,  and  the  other  slaves 
of  the  Button." 

Alf  continued  polishing  for  dear  life.  After  a 
moment's  pause  the  voice  spoke  again. 

"  Great  Master,"  it  said.  "  Behold,  thy  slave  is 
present." 

But  the  great  Master,  perspiring  freely  with  ter- 
ror, averted  his  head  and  polished  on.  He  had  some 
wild  hope  that  the  spirit  might  realize  that  the  sum- 
mons he  had  obeyed  was  involuntary  and,  so  to 
speak,  unofficial,  and  would  go  away.  The  spirit, 
on  the  other  hand,  apparently  took  his  master's  be- 
havior as  being  simply  an  exhibition  of  despotism; 
this  was  quite  according  to  Oriental  tradition,  and 
greatly  impressed  him,  so  that  when  he  spoke  a  third 
time  his  voice  was  humble  and  servile  to  a  dj^ree. 


a8  ALPS  BUTTON 

"  O  Master,  Lord  of  Power,"  he  said,  "  since  thou 
dost  not  deign  to  acknowledge  the  presence  of  thy 
slave,  but  dost  continue  the  summons  whereby  thy 
slave  came  hither,  is  it  thy  will  that  the  other  slaves 
of  the  Button,  who  are  seven  thousand  in  number, 
should  be  brought  before  thee?  " 

It  is  doubtful  whether  Higgins  fully  comprehended 
this  rather  involved  sentence;  but  he  understood 
enough  to  realize  that  unless  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  talk  with  this  being  he  was  threatened  with  the 
appearance  of  seven  thousand  other  devils,  quite  pos- 
sibly worse  than  the  first.  He  dropped  his  button- 
stick  hastily.  "  No,"  he  said  anxiously;  "  you'll  do." 

He  turned  and  faced  his  slave  and  was  astonished 
to  find  that  his  fear  had  passed.  The  mysterious 
being  was  much  more  terrible  in  anticipation  than  in 
reality;  and  the  servility  of  his  speech  and  bearing 
had  unmistakably  shown  that  he  regarded  Alf  with 
respect  almost  amounting  to  reverence.  Alf,  his 
breast  swelling  with  a  new  and  very  pleasant  sense 
of  self-importance,  decided  to  take  this  opportunity 
of  coming  to  some  kind  of  understanding  with  his 
new  follower. 

"  Look  'ere,  chum,"  he  said  affably,  "  you  an' 
me's  got  to  'ave  a  little  talk.  NowT,  just  tell  me,  'ow 
do  I  come  to  be  your  master?  " 

"  Lord,  I  am  chief  of  the  slaves  of  the  Button 
that  was  aforetime  the  Lamp.  Whosoever  may  be 
Lord  of  the  Button,  him  do  I  serve  and  perform  all 
his  will;  I,  and  the  other  slaves  of  the  Button." 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  THE  PLANES      29 

"  Lumme !  "  commented  Alf,  much  impressed. 
"  An'  where  was  yer  last  place?  " 

"Master?"  said  the  spirit,  uncomprehending. 

"  'Oo  didst  you  —  thou  —  serve  before  you  come 
to  me?  "  interpreted  the  Master. 

"  The  great  prince  Aladdin." 

"  Don't  know  'im.     Prince  'oo?  " 

"  Aladdin." 

"What  —  the  pantomime  feller?  Lor',  you 
must  be  gettin'  on  in  years!  Well,  now,  did  this 
chap  give  yer  a  reference?  " 

The  spirit  looked  puzzled,  and  Alf  decided  that 
in  Aladdin's  time  servants  could  not  have  had  char- 
acters. He  continued  his  catechism. 

"An'  what's  yer  name,  mate?" 

"  Abdulkindeelilajeeb  was  I  aforetime,  O  Master, 
but  now  I  am  called  Abdulzirrilajeeb." 

"  Gorblimey,"  said  Alf  blankly.  "  You  don't  ex- 
pect me  to  do  that  when  I  speaks  to  yer,  I  'ope  1  " 
Then  after  a  pause  he  added,  "  I  shall  call  yer 
Eustace." 

The  djinn  looked  pleased. 

"  In  truth,  O  possessor  of  wisdom,  it  is  a  lordly 
name." 

'Tis  well,"  replied  the  possessor  of  wisdom  with 
a  melodramatic  wave  of  the  hand.  "  Now,  tell  me. 
Yer  always  poppin'  up  an'  askin'  for  orders  —  what 
is  it  you  want  to  do  ?  What's  yer  partickler  line  ?  " 

"  My  Lord  hath  but  to  command,"  said  the  newly- 
christened  Eustace  with  superb  simplicity. 


30  ALPS  BUTTON 

"  Garn,  what  a  whopper !  "  Alf  snorted  incred- 
ulously. He  had  an  ingrained  dislike  of  "  swank  " 
in  any  form;  and  he  looked  about  him  at  once,  seek- 
ing some  impossible  task  with  which  he  might  upset 
this  complacent  creature's  vanity. 

His  imagination  failed  utterly  to  respond  to  the 
sudden  strain  placed  upon  it.  His  eye  wandered 
round  the  unedifying  landscape  and  found  no  source 
of  inspiration.  In  despair  he  glanced  up  at  the 
skies,  and  there  he  found  the  idea  he  sought. 

High  in  the  air  above  the  British  lines  —  so  high 
that  they  were  only  just  visible  —  were  two  aero- 
planes. That  they  were  Boche  and  Briton,  en- 
gaged in  a  duel,  was  plain;  but  which  was  which  it 
was  impossible  to  make  out.  No  doubt  an  expert 
would  have  known  at  once  by  a  dozen  signs;  but 
Alf's  data  for  distinguishing  friend  from  foe  in  the 
air  began  and  ended  with  the  official  markings  — 
the  tricolor  rings  of  the  Allies  or  the  German  black 
cross  painted  on  the  wings  of  the  machines.  When 
these  signs  were  not  visible  he  worked,  as  did  most 
of  his  mates,  on  the  rough  principle  that  if  an  aero- 
plane dropped  bombs  on  you  it  was  certainly 
a  Boche,  while  if  it  refrained  it  was  probably 
British. 

He  directed  the  djinn's  attention  aloft. 

"  Now  then,"  he  said  in  triumphant  tones.  "  See 
them  two  airyplanes  up  there?  Well,  if  yer  so 
bloomin'  clever,  'op  up  and  bring  down  the  Boche 
one  to  me  'ere." 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  THE  PLANES      31 

Eustace  disappeared  immediately,  and  Alf,  incred- 
ulous though  he  was  that  anything  out  of  the  or- 
dinary was  going  to  happen,  gazed  up  at  the  two 
tiny  machines,  still  diving  and  circling  in  their  at- 
tempts to  out-maneuver  one  another. 

The  duel  was,  however,  nearing  an  end.  As  Alf 
gazed,  one  of  the  two  suddenly  turned  tail  and  fled. 
The  other  gave  chase,  and  seemed  on  the  very  point 
of  victory,  when  suddenly  the  pursuing  plane  seemed 
to  check  in  mid-air  and  began  to  descend. 

Even  to  Alf's  untutored  eye  there  was  something 
uncanny  in  that  descent.  The  machine  neither  nose- 
dived nor  came  down  in  the  usual  graceful  spirals. 
Instead  it  sank  slowly  and  very  steadily  straight 
downwards,  in  defiance  of  all  known  laws  of  aero- 
nautics, directly  towards  the  spot  where  Alf  was 
standing. 

Alf,  petrified  with  astonishment,  stood  staring  at 
the  machine  as  it  grew  larger  and  more  distinct.  It 
was  all  true,  then!  The  djinn  had,  it  seemed,  all 
the  powers  that  he  claimed.  In  a  few  moments 
Private  Higgins  would  be  in  sole  possession  of  a 
complete  German  aeroplane.  For  the  first  time  in 
his  career,  militaj-y  glory  was  in  his  grasp.  He  had 
had  no  thought,  when  he  had  given  his  command  to 
Eustace,  of  anything  but  the  difficulty  of  the  task; 
but  now  he  had  a  sudden  joyous  vision  of  the  kudos 
he  would  gain  when  he  should  march  the  crew  of  his 
approaching  captive  into  the  company  lines  at  the 
point  of  his  bayonet. 


32  ALFS  BUTTON 

He  unslung  his  rifle,  loaded  it  and  fixed  the 
bayonet.  Then,  assuming  the  "  On  Guard  "  posi- 
tion, he  looked  up  once  more  at  the  machine,  now 
only  a  few  hundred  feet  above  him;  and  he  gave  a 
gasp  of  horror. 

On  the  underside  of  the  wings,  now  plain  to  the 
view,  were  painted  the  familiar  rings  of  red,  white 
and  blue.  Eustace,  even  less  skilled  than  his  mas- 
ter, had  brought  down  the  wrong  machine.  Instead 
of  saving  a  British  airman  from  destruction  Alf  had 
only  deprived  him  of  a  well-earned  victory  at  the 
moment  of  triumph.  The  German,  rejoicing  at  his 
incredible  escape  and  marveling,  no  doubt,  at  his  op- 
ponent's inexplicable  collapse,  was  now  out  of  sight 
and  in  safety  above  his  own  lines;  while  the  Briton 
was  just  dropping  ignominiously  to  earth,  helpless 
in  the  grip  of  a  muddle-headed  spirit  out  of  an 
Oriental  fairy  tale. 

Higgins  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  as  the  'plane 
came  to  earth  beside  him;  out  of  it  climbed  two 
R.F.C.  officers,  both  puzzled  and  exceedingly  angry. 
They  subjected  their  machine  to  an  exhaustive  ex- 
amination and  then  stared  at  each  other  blankly. 

"  Not  a  thing  wrong,  Tony.     It's  uncanny!  " 

"Uncanny!"  The  young  pilot  was  almost 
weeping  with  mortification.  "  To  have  that  chap 
von  Hoffmeister  in  my  hands  —  the  chap  who's 
been  the  thorn  in  our  flesh  this  last  month  —  and 
then  be  done  in  by  —  by  a  bally  miracle.  It's 
damnable !  " 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  THE  PLANES      33 

Alfs  knees  trembled  beneath  him.  He  came 
guiltily  to  attention,  wondering  if  the  airmen  could 
suspect  his  complicity  in  the  affair. 

The  pilot's  feelings  suddenly  boiled  over  again. 

"My  God!"  he  said  thickly,  "I'd  like  to  kill 
somebody  for  this !  " 

Unconsciously  he  fixed  Alf  with  a  baleful  glare. 

"  I'm  —  I'm  sorry,  sir,"  quavered  Private  Hig- 
gins,  losing  his  head  completely. 

The  observer  laughed  mirthlessly. 

"  Well,"  he  said  to  Alf.  "  It  wasn't  your  fault, 
anyway.  Come  on,  Tony,  let's  see  if  we  can't  find 
a  mess  somewhere.  You'll  feel  better  after  a 
whisky.  Not  .  .  ."  he  concluded,  exploding  in  his 
turn,  "  that  I  -don't  think  it's  the  rottenest  bit  of 
luck  that  ever  happened." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  pilot.  "  Here,  you'll  stand 
by  the  machine,  will  you?  I'll  tell  'em  in  the  camp 
that  I  ordered  you  to." 

"  Yessir!  "  -said  Alf,  saluting;  and  he  thankfully 
watched  them  go  towards  the  camp. 

As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  sight,  Alf  rubbed  his 
button.  The  djinn  appeared,  wearing  a  self-satis- 
fied .smirk  at  the  striking  proof  -of  his  powers  his 
new  master  had  just  received. 

"  What  wouldst  thou  have?  I  am  ready  to  obey 
thee  as  thy  .  .  ." 

"  Cut  out  the  song  an'  dance,  yer  blinkin'  fool," 
said  Alf  fiercely.  "  See  what  you  gone  an'  bin  an' 
done.  This  'ere's  a  British  plane  —  savvy?  I  told 


34  ALPS  BUTTON 

yer  to  bring  a  Boche  one  —  them  what  'as  the 
black  crosses.  I  b'lieve  yer  a  bally  spy,  I  do.  'Ere, 
git  out  o'  me  sight !  " 

The  djinn  vanished  in  silence.  The  instant  he 
was  gone  Alf  began  to  regret  the  lengths  to  which 
his  tongue  had  led  him.  How  had  he  dared  to 
speak  -so  to  a  creature  possessing  unlimited  powers? 
He  began  to  feel  cold  with  apprehension.  What 
would  happen  next? 

At  this  point  he  saw  a  tremendous  commotion  in 
the  camp.  Men  poured  out  of  the  huts  and  stared 
skywards,  gesticulating  and  shouting.  Alf  looked 
upwards  and  saw  the  cause  of  their  excitement. 
Fully  a  dozen  German  aeroplanes  were  converging 
on  Alf  from  different  quarters  of  the  sky,  each  one 
helpless  in  the  grip  of  the  same  power  that  had 
brought  the  British  machine  to  earth. 

It  was  Eustace's  wholesale  Oriental  method  of 
making  reparation.  One  by  one  the  machines  came 
to  earth,  until  all  twelve  were  arranged  in  a  neat 
row  beside  the  original  victim.  The  dazed  Ger- 
man crews  scrambled  out,  looking  for  somebody  to 
whom  to  surrender;  but  first,  as  was  their  duty,  they 
set  fire  to  their  machines.  There  was  nobody  to 
prevent  them,  for  though  several  hundred  British 
soldiers  were  on  the  way  at  the  double,  not  one  was 
on  the  spot. 

Alf  had  fled  in  panic;  he  skulked  in  retirement 
until  the  excitement  had  died  down;  his  one  desire 
was  not  to  be  connected  in  anybody's  mind  with  the 


35 

extraordinary  and  inexplicable  events  of  that  after- 
noon. 

When  the  German  prisoners  had  been  cleared 
away,  and  the  normal  routine  had  been  restored,  he 
returned  to  camp  and  displayed  his  button  to  C.S.M. 
French.  Having  received  a  grudging  assent  from 
that  worthy,  he  drew  his  "  bit  o'  black  "  from  the 
quartermaster-sergeant,  and  draped  it  over  his  talis- 
man. As  he  put  the  last  stitch  in  place  he  made  a 
mental  resolve  that  it  would  be  long  before  he  would 
meddle  again  with  a  magic  productive  of  such  un- 
comfortable adventures. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   MISGUIDED  ZEAL   OF   EUSTACE 

THE  word  "  rest  "  as  used  at  the  front  has  been 
described  as  being  purely  a  technical  term, 
bearing  no  relation  whatever  to  the  other  word  of 
the  same  name.  Certainly  during  the  last  fortnight 
of  this  particular  period  Alf  Higgins  and  Bill  Grant 
found  cause  to  realize  the  truth  of  this  description. 

A  new  brigadier  had  just  been  appointed  to  com- 
mand the  Middlesex  Fusiliers  Brigade.  He  was  an 
upstanding  young  giant  of  thirty,  and  the  main 
tenets  of  his  creed  were  fitness  and  efficiency.  In 
pursuit  of  the  latter  he  organized  strenuous  sham 
fights  over  miles  of  country,  and  he  urged  upon  his 
colonels  that  only  by  encouraging  athletic  contests 
on  a  hitherto  unheard  of  scale  could  they  hope  to 
attain  the  f®rmer. 

Alf  and  Bill  were  no  athletes,  but  they  continued 
to  play  football  with  more  vigor  than  skill  until  their 
platoon  was  knocked  out  of  the  battalion  competi- 
tion. They  bore  their  defeat  with  stoicism,  hoping 
that  they  would  now  be  allowed  to  assume  the  much 
more  accustomed  and  congenial  role  of  spectators. 
Instead  of  this  they  found  themselves  (to  their  inex- 
pressible indignation)  called  upon  to  sustain  the 

36 


THE  MISGUIDED  ZEAL  OF  EUSTACE     37 

battalion's  honor  in  cross-country  runs  under  the 
eye  of  that  speechless  but  efficient  officer  Lieutenant 
Donaldson. 

In  the  evenings,  however,  they  were  free  to  ex- 
tract what  amusement  they  could  out  of  life.  The 
pierrot  troupe,  without  which  no  division  at  the 
front  considered  itself  complete,  played  to  packed 
houses  every  other  night  in  the  Y.M.C.A. ;  while  a 
cinematograph  show  had  been  rigged  up  in  a  barn. 
Each  day,  also,  a  limited  number  of  passes  to 
Amiens  entitled  such  as  were  favored  of  Fortune 
to  a  blissful  day's  taste  of  civilization. 

'  To  the  officers,  however,  it  seemed  sometimes  in- 
credible that  any  of  the  men  could  patronize  these 
delights  at  all. 

"  I  believe,"  said  Richards  to  Allen  one  evening, 
"  that  every  man  in  this  company  must  write  to  every 
relation,  friend,  acquaintance  or  business  connection 
he  has  in  Blighty  seven  times  in  the  week,  just  to 
spite  us !  " 

The  company  letters  had  just  come  in  to  be  cen- 
sored. Donaldson  had  gone  to  a  Sports  Committee 
meeting,  and  Shaw,  as  mess  president,  was  in 
Amiens  restocking  the  larder. 

"  Lord,  what  a  pile !  "  said  Allen,  sitting  down 
at  the  table  and  beginning  his  task.  "  It's  lucky  I've 
no  letters  of  my  own  to  write  —  or  only  a  note." 

He  gave  a  sigh;  the  man  at  the  front  who  has 
nobody  in  England  to  write  to  is  not  to  be  envied. 

"  I  have,  though."  said  Captain  Richards.     "  My 


38  ALPS  BUTTON 

wife'll  be  thinking  I'm  dead  if  I  don't  write  her  a 
proper  letter  soon." 

He  also  took  a  handful  of  letters  and  set  to  work. 

"May  I  come  in?"  said  a  voice  at  the  door. 
"  Or  are  you  too  busy?  " 

"  Come  in,  of  course,  major." 

The  second-in-command  entered,  glanced  round 
and  took  in  the  situation. 

"  Don't  let  me  interrupt  you,"  he  said  politely. 
"  I  haven't  come  to  see  you  at  all,  so  don't  flatter 
yourselves.  I  wanted  to  see  Denis's  Sketch  and 
Taller,  that's  all." 

"  On  my  bed,  sir,"  said  Allen. 

"  Thanks." 

There  was  unbroken  silence  for  some  minutes. 
Then  the  major  cast  The  Taller  from  him  with  an 
exclamation  of  disgust. 

"  I  wish,"  he  said,  "  that  that  grinning  little  idiot 
would  stop  advertising  herself  for  a  bit.  You  can't 
pick  up  a  picture-paper  without  seeing  her  selling 
things  or  dressing  up  or  generally  pushing  herself 
into  the  limelight.  She  wants  smacking." 

Both  men  at  the  table  looked  up. 

"Who's  the  grinning  idiot  in  question,  major?" 

"  Isobel  FitzPeter.  Here  you  are  —  a  whole 
page  of  her  and  her  bally  bulldog,  labeled  '  A 
famous  Beauty  —  and  Friend.'  Same  photograph 
in  The  Sketch,  called  '  Beauty  and  the  Beast ' !  It 
makes  me  sick!  " 

Allen  suddenly  got  up  and  went  out  of  the  room 


THE  MISGUIDED  ZEAL  OF  EUSTACE     39 

without  a  word,  very  red  in  the  face.  Richards  and 
Major  Parker  stared  after  him,  the  former  very 
embarrassed,  the  latter  simply  surprised. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  the  major  blankly. 

"  I  expect  poor  old  Denis  felt  he  might  have  used 
language  unbefitting  your  rank  if  he'd  stayed.  You 
see  —  don't  let  on  to  a  soul,  mind  —  he's  most 
frightfully  gone  on  the  FitzPeter  girl." 

'"  Good  God,  Dickie,  what  have  I  said?     D'you 
mean  they're  engaged  or  anything?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  I  don't  believe  she  knows  him  at  all. 
He  used  to  play  cricket  at  her  father's  place,  and 
they  were  rather  pals  then,  I  believe.  But  since 
she's  grown  up,  they've  never  met.  But  you  know 
how  it  is  out  here.  If  I  hadn't  had  my  wife  to 
think  about,  I'd  have  gone  mad  long  ago.  Denis 
doesn't  seem  to  have  many  feminine  belongings  of 
his  own,  so  he's  simply  installed  this  girl  as  a  kind 
of  goddess.  He  seems  to  live  for  the  illustrated 
papers. —  simply  devours  them,  and  cuts  out  her  pic- 
ture. This  is  all  rather  confidential,  major." 

"  Of  course.  Poor  old  chap.  You  know, 
Dickie,  I  do  happen  to  know  the  lady.  In  peace 
time  she  was  as  nice  a  kid  as  you  could  want  to  meet. 
If  Denis  hasn't  met  her  since  then,  I  don't  wonder 
at  him,  because  she's  really  frightfully  pretty.  But 
her  head  has  been  utterly  turned.  She  acts  as 
parlor-maid  once  a  fortnight  in  a  hospital  my  sister 
runs  in  Kensington,  and  she's  more  hindrance  than 
help,  because  she  never  arrives  in  time,  and  she's 


40  ALF'S  BUTTON 

always  got  some  footling  reason  for  wanting  to  go 
early.  But  her  photograph  in  V.A.D.  uniform  gets 
published  about  once  a  fortnight,  usually  headed 
*  Nursing  the  Wounded/  or,  *  An  Indefatigable  War 
Worker  ' !  The  worst  of  it  is  she's  got  brains  if 
she'd  use  them;  only  she  won't.  A  spoilt,  thought- 
less little  idiot,  and  as  pretty  as  they  make  'em. 
Poor  old  Denis." 

At  this  point  Allen  returned  and  resumed  his  work 
without  a  word.  The  major  fell  silent.  Richards 
cast  about  for  some  subject  to  cover  the  awkward 
break  in  the  conversation. 

"  D'you  know  when  we  go  back  to  the  line,  sir?  " 
he  asked  at  last. 

"  Not  settled.  End  of  the  week,  I  think.  Look 
here,  I've  interrupted  you  fellows  quite  enough. 
Give  me  some  of  those  letters." 

"  Thanks  awfully,  sir.     You're  a  sportsman." 

By  dinner  time  the  pile  was  finished,  and  Allen 
had  time  to  write  his  note. 

"  DEAR  PEGGY,"  he  wrote, — 

"  Just  a  line  to  tell  you  I'm  still  alive,  and  hop- 
ing to  remain  so.  You  might  write  to  me  when 
you've  time.  In  great  haste, 

"  Your  affectionate  cousin, 

"  DENIS. 

"  P.S.  If  you  happen  to  see  Miss  FitzPeter, 
please  give  her  my  kind  regards." 

This  missive   he   addressed   to  Lady   Margaret 


THE  MISGUIDED  ZEAL  OF  EUSTACE     41 

Clowes,  at  an  address  in  Mayfair.  She  was  only  a 
very  distant  cousin  of  Allen's,  and  there  was,  on 
the  face  of  it,  no  particular  reason  why  he  should 
have  written  to  her  at  all.  The  regularity  with 
which  he  had  recently  done  so,  therefore,  coupled 
with  the  unfailing  manner  in  which  the  postscript 
contained  a  polite  message  to  Isobel  FitzPeter,  had 
given  away  to  Margaret  the  true  state  of  affairs; 
and  because  she  liked  and  admired  her  shy  cousin, 
she  had  contrived  to  keep  his  name  not  too  insis- 
tently, and  yet  quite  firmly,  before  Isobel' s  mind. 
She  had  determined,  also,  that  when  next  Allen 
should  come  home  on  leave,  she  would  engineer  a 
meeting  between  them. 

If  he  had  known  this  it  would  have  filled  him  with 
joy,  tempered  with  apprehension,  for  he  was  not 
blind  to  the  fact  that  the  Isobel  he  had  known  had 
developed  into  a  new  and  rather  formidable  crea- 
ture. She  was  now  a  public  character,  the  last  word 
in  smartness,  and  sometimes  rather  a  loud  word  at 
that.  He  felt  that  she  was  removed  now  to  a  sphere 
beyond  his  reach,  for  he  was  a  very  humble-minded 
person.  Altogether,  one  way  and  another,  he  con- 
trived to  be  acutely  miserable  when  he  had  time  to 
think  about  anything  but  his  work,  and  he  rather 
welcomed  than  otherwise  the  prospect  of  going  back 
into  the  line. 

In  due  course  an  operation  order  came  through 
from  Battalion  Headquarters,  setting  forth  in 
minutest  detail  the  times  at  which  officers'  valises 


42  ALPS  BUTTON 

would  be  packed  and  sent  to  the  transport,  mess- 
boxes  made  ready,  blankets  tied  into  bundles  and 
delivered  to  the  quartermaster,  billets  cleaned  and 
platoons  ready  to  move.  When  the  time  came  there 
was  the  usual  air  of  hopeless  confusion,  the  ac- 
customed mutual  recriminations  between  conflicting 
or  overlapping  authorities ;  and  in  the  end  —  also 
as  usual  —  the  battalion  marched  out  at  the  ap- 
pointed hour,  leaving  behind  it  very  little  to  show 
that  it  had  ever  been  there. 

The  brigade  was  to  take  over  the  same  part  of 
the  line  it  had  last  occupied;  but  in  the  three  weeks' 
interval  that  had  elapsed  since  they  had  been  re- 
lieved, Hindenburg  had  carried  out  his  famous  "  re- 
tirement according  to  plan,"  and  our  friends  found 
themselves  only  just  entering  the  shelled  area  about 
the  point  where,  in  the  days  of  the  Big  Thaw,  their 
front  line  had  been. 

The  5th  Battalion  this  time  moved  straight  up 
into  the  front  line,  where  they  were  comparatively 
comfortable.  The  weather  was  still  cold,  but  fine; 
the  trenches  —  originally  German  property  —  had 
turned  renegade  and  were  now  serving  the  British 
very  efficiently  against  their  old  masters.  The  sec- 
tor was  still  very  quiet :  to  all  appearance  the  enemy 
had  gone  away  and  left  no  address.  Altogether 
things  were  very  much  pleasanter  than  last  time  up. 

Alf,  after  his  former  fiasco,  was  no  longer  a  "  run- 
ner " ;  but  his  chum,  Bill  Grant,  had  been  selected 
for  this  work,  so  that  the  two  were  no  better  off 


THE  MISGUIDED  ZEAL  OF  EUSTACE     43 

than  last  time,  so  far  as  being  together  was  con- 
cerned. Alf  felt  lonely.  None  of  the  other  men 
in  his  platoon  took  much  interest  in  him.  He 
wanted  Bill's  companionship  —  his  contemptuous 
patronage  of  and  his  real  affection  for  his  slower- 
witted  companion. 

His  loneliness  increased  daily,  until  it  became 
acute;  and  at  last  one  day,  being  on  sentry-go  in  a 
bay  all  by  himself,  he  bethought  himself  of  his  But- 
ton. His  mates  were  snoring  in  a  dug-out  close  by; 
no  sign  had  been  seen  from  the  German  trenches  all 
day.  He  had  strained  his  eyes  across  No-Man's- 
Land  until  he  had  begun  to  feel  intolerably  drowsy 
himself.  If  something  did  not  happen  soon,  there 
was  a  danger  that  the  officer  or  N.C.O.  on  duty 
might  find  him  asleep  at  his  post. 

Eustace  seemed  to  be  his  only  chance. 

He  rubbed  the  Button. 

"What  wouldst  thou  have?     I  am  ready.  .  .  ." 

"  'Op  it,  quick!  "  was  Alf's  startling  rejoinder. 

Eustace,  looking  upset,  complied.  He  was  be- 
ginning to  wonder  whether  he  was  being  victimized. 
This  new  Master  of  his  who  gave  incomprehensible 
orders  and  then  seemed  far  from  pleased  when  the 
orders  were  carried  out,  also  seemed  to  have  a  taste 
for  summoning  him  merely  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
him  vanish. 

But  Alf  had  a  better  reason  than  this.  He  had 
heard  voices  further  along  the  trench.  A  moment 
after  Eustace  had  disappeared,  Lieutenant  Shaw 


44  ALF'S  BUTTON 

came  round  the  traverse  with  the  N.C.O.  on  duty,  in 
the  course  of  his  tour  of  inspection  along  the  "  C  " 
Company  front. 

"  Alone,  Higgins?  "  asked  the  officer,  with  a  hint 
of  surprise  in  his  voice. 

"  Yessir." 

"  I  thought  I  heard  voices." 

"  Only  me  'ummin',  sir." 

"I  see.     All  quiet?" 

"Yessir!  Nothin'  doin'  at  all!" 
'  Well  " —  Second-Lieutenant  Shaw  had  not  yet 
shed  his  youthful  pride  at  being  in  the  thick  of 
things,  and  puffed  himself  out  a  little  and  became 
most  impressive  — "  you  want  to  keep  an  extra  sharp 
look-out  from  now  until  we  stand-to  at  dusk.  We've 
an  idea  that  something's  going  to  happen.  Prob- 
ably Fritz  will  try  a  raid.  This  quiet  is  very  sus- 
picious." 

He  passed  on  with  the  sergeant.  As  soon  as  he 
was  well  out  of  earshot,  Alf  recalled  the  spirit,  who 
looked  so  hurt  that  his  Master  felt  that  an  apology 
was  due  to  him. 

"  Sorry,  Eustace,  but  if  the  orficer  'ad  seen  you 
talkin'  to  me,  there'd  'ave  been  trouble.  Civilians 
ain't  allowed  in  the  trenches,  'cept  with  a  special 
pass;  so  when  anybody  comes,  you  must  'op  it  with- 
out waitin'  for  orders.  See?  " 

Eustace  bowed  gravely. 

"  Now,  look  'ere,"  continued  Alf,  gazing  ear- 
nestly over  the  parapet  as  he  spoke,  "  I  just  bin 


THE  MISGUIDED  ZEAL  OF  EUSTACE    45 

thinkin'  about  yer.  If  you  could  only  get  out  o'  this 
'abit  o'  practical  jokin'  an'  so  on,  you  might  be  quite 
a  useful  sort  o'  feller.  Now,  tell  me  fair,  what  can 
you  do?  I  don't  mean  larkin'  with  airyplanes,  but 
terious  things." 

"  My  Lord  hath  but  to  command." 

"  Yes,  it's  easy  enough  to  say  that,  but  I  can't 
think  o'  things.  .  .  .  Now,  s'posin'  .  .  .  that  is. 
.  .  .  Look  'ere,  what  I  really  want  is  something  to 
keep  me  safe  if  the  blighted  Boche  comes  over. 
Now,  what  can  you  show  me?" 

"  Master,  I  comprehend  not  thy  speech." 

"  Lumme,  I  speak  plain  enough  English,  I  'ope. 
I  say,  what  I  want  is  something  to  keep  me  safe  if 
the  Boche  comes  over.  The  Boche,  you  know  I 
Fritz!  The  'Un!  The  fellers  across  there,  you 
blinkin'  image !  The  Germans !  " 

"  My  Lord  desires  protection  from  his  enemies." 

"  That's  better,  Eustace.  Think  it  out,  and  you'll 
get  there  in  time." 

"  It  shall  be  so.     Behold  I" 

An  object  appeared  in  the  Spirit's  hand. 

"  Behold,  O  Lord  of  Might,  the  helmet  of  in- 
visibility. Clad  in  this  thou  canst  be  seen  of  no 
mortal  eye.  So  mayest  thou  move  among  the  hosts 
of  the  enemy,  seeing  all,  yet  seen  of  none." 

"By  guml"  commented  Alf,  much  impressed, 
"  that's  a  bit  of  all  right.  Shouldn't  mind  doing 
daylight  patrols  with  that  on.  Knocks  a  tin  'at  all 
to  blazes." 


46  ALPS  BUTTON 

He  pondered  a  moment  and  began  to  see  the  dis- 
advantages of  the  idea. 

"  The  trouble  is,"  he  explained,  "  the  orficer 
seems  to  think  the  'osts  of  the  enemy  is  goin'  to  move 
about  us  just  now.  Where  should  I  be  then? 
They'd  all  think  I'd  'ad  the  wind  up  and  'opped  it. 
An'  then,  'ow  about  shell-fire?  Just  bein'  invisible 
won't  stop  no  Perishin'  Percies.  What  I  want  is 
something  —  well,  you  know  what  I  mean.  Can't 
you  get  me  something  to  keep  off  the  bullets  ?  " 

"  Verily  that  can  I,"  said  Eustace,  with  an  air 
suggesting  that  Alf  was  simply  wasting  his  time  with 
niggling  details.  "  Just  such  a  thing  as  thou  desirest 
was  aforetime  in  the  treasury  of  the  great  King  Uz; 
my  spirits  shall  procure  it  for  thee.  Whoso  weareth 
this  can  come  to  no  hurt  through  weapons  forged  by 
man." 

"  That's  the  ticket,  if  Mr.  What's-'is-name  won't 
be  wanting  it  for  'isself.  'E's  probably  'elpin'  with 
this  'ere  War  somewhere  or  other." 

"  Uz  hath  been  dead  these  many  cycles  —  upon 
him  be  peace !  "  returned  Eustace.  He  raised  his 
hand,  and,  with  an  awesome  clang,  a  cumbrous  suit 
of  armor,  complete  in  every  detail,  fell  into  the 
trench.  The  djinn  wore  an  expression  of  mild  tri- 
umph. This  time,  he  seemed  to  think,  even  this 
strange  new  master  of  his  must  be  satisfied.  He 
was  not  in  the  least  prepared  for  Alf's  reception  of 
his  performance. 

"  Take  it  away,"  shrieked  Private  Higgins,  in  an 


THE  MISGUIDED  ZEAL  OF  EUSTACE     47 

agony  at  the  idea  of  having  to  explain  away  such  a 
phenomenon  to  his  superiors.  "  Take  it  away,  you 
blinkin'  fool,  and  'op  it  yerself.  What  the  blazes 
d'you  think  yer  doin'?  'Ere,  get  out  of  it,  quick. 
Somebody's  comin'." 

Somebody  was. 

The  whole  of  Number  Nine  Platoon,  awakened 
from  its  slumbers,  came  tumbling  out  of  its  dug- 
outs, adjusting  its  gas  masks  as  it  came.  A  horrible 
ghoul,  dimly  recognizable  through  the  windows  of 
its  respirator  as  Sergeant  Lees,  came  and  gibbered 
at  Alf. 

'What's  up,   sergeant?"   asked  Alf  in   amaze- 
ment. 

"  Gas  !  "  replied  the  sergeant,  removing  his  mouth- 
piece for  a  moment  in  order  -to  speak  more  clearly. 
"  Why  the  'ell  ain't  you  got  yer  mask  on?  Didn't 
you  'ear  the  gong?  " 

Higgins  realized  with  horror  what  had  happened. 
The  clang  of  the  armor  had  been  mistaken  for  a  gas- 
gong  by  a  sentry  in  the  next  bay,  who  had  promptly 
given  the  alarm.  He  tried  feebly  to  straighten  mat- 
ters out;  but  it  was  too  late  now.  The  word  had 
spread;  the  Boche,  seeing  the  commotion  in  our 
lines,  had  sprung  to  arms;  and  both  armies  stood 
tense,  each  convinced  that  the  other  was  going  to 
make  a  surprise  attack.  A  heavy  fusillade  with 
rifles  and  machine  guns,  rifle  grenades  and  trench 
mortars  began,  and  in  its  turn  spread  along  the  lines 
with  great  swiftness.  Then  somebody  put  up  an 


48  ALFS  BUTTON 

S.O.S.  flare,  and  the  guns,  which  had  only  been  wait- 
ing for  this  invitation,  joined  in.  For  the  next  few 
minutes  the  Messina  earthquake  or  an  eruption  of 
Vesuvius  would  have  been  welcomed  as  quiet  inter- 
ludes by  Richards,  Allen  &  Co. 

Further  back,  astonished  Staff-Officers  were 
springing  to  the  telephone  to  demand  by  what  right 
this  intense  but  unauthorized  warfare  was  taking 
place,  and  what  it  was  all  about,  anyway.  Further 
back  still,  troops  in  rest  billets  looked  up  from  their 
magazines  or  their  letters  home  and  thanked  Heaven 
that  they  were  not  in  the  shoes  of  the  poor  blighters 
in  the  line. 

Then  both  sides  seemed  to  discover  that  nothing 
much  was  happening  after  all,  and  the  whole  thing 
died  away  as  suddenly  as  it  had  begun.  But  that 
night  the  sentries  were  doubled,  and  as  Higgins 
sulkily  performed  his  extra  hours  of  duty,  his  feel- 
ings towards  his  well-meaning  but  tactless  familiar 
were  such  that  he  nearly  brought  his  adventures  to 
an  untimely  close  by  cutting  off  the  Button  and  fling- 
ing it  over  the  parapet 


CHAPTER  V 

EUSTACE    FETCHES   BEER 

AFTER  this  sudden  burst  of  excitement  had 
died  away,  a  watchful  calm  descended  on  the 
front  line.  "  C  "  Company  were  relieved  next  day 
by  "  B  "  Company,  and  went  into  close  support. 
Here  they  were  in  a  zone  more  subjected  to  shell- 
fire  than  in  the  front  line  itself;  but  this  worried 
them  very  little,  as  for  the  most  part  they  spent 
their  four  days  snugly  in  dug-outs,  listening  to  the 
occasional  dull  thud  caused  by  an  explosion  up  above, 
and  waiting  in  readiness  to  turn  out  at  any  moment 
in  the  event  of  a  raid.  One  or  two  parties  were 
called  out  to  carry  rations  up  to  "  B  "  Company,  but 
the  only  casualty  was  a  man  who  was  hit  in  the  arm 
by  a  shell-splinter,  and  departed  for  "  Blighty " 
openly  exulting  in  his  good  fortune. 

On  the  fourth  day  the  battalion  was  relieved  and 
went  back  into  Brigade  Reserve.  Here  they  were 
to  stay  for  eight  days  while  the  battalion  in  the  line 
completed  its  duty.  What  might  happen  after  that 
was  a  matter  for  speculation,  known  only  to  Prov- 
idence—  and  possibly  (though  not  very  probably) 
the  Staff.  Anyhow,  the  events  of  so  dim  and  dis- 
tant a  future  were  a  matter  of  supreme  indifference 
to  the  rank  and  file.  It  was  enough  for  them  that 

49 


50  ALFS  BUTTON 

for  a  week  or  so  at  any  rate  they  would  have  deep, 
warm  dug-outs,  well  back  from  the  line. 

As  soon  as  the  company  settled  in,  Bill  Grant  re- 
turned to  the  platoon,  his  services  as  extra  runner 
being  no  longer  required.  Alf  would  have  wel- 
comed him  under  any  circumstances;  but  on  this  oc- 
casion he  was  specially  glad  to  have  his  pal  back 
again.  He  was  worried  and  needed  advice.  He 
had,  in  fact,  decided  to  take  Bill  into  his  confidence 
on  the  subject  of  Eustace,  and  was  now  simply  wait- 
ing for  an  opportunity  of  a  private  and  uninterrupted 
conversation  with  him.  A  tete-a  tete,  especially  if 
it  entails  a  practical  demonstration  of  oriental 
magic,  is  not  the  easiest  thing  on  earth  for  two  Tom- 
mies in  the  forward  area  to  arrange. 

A  kindly  Fate  assisted  them,  however.  The  par- 
ticular system  of  trenches  they  were  inhabiting,  like 
all  systems  constructed  by  that  industrious  mole,  the 
Boche,  was  honeycombed  with  deep  dug-outs  —  far 
more  than  the  5th  Battalion  could  possibly  use.  It 
occurred  to  the  two  warriors  that  it  would  be  an  ex- 
cellent plan  to  find  a  disused  and  secluded  specimen 
for  their  own  private  use.  In  such  a  haven  Alf 
could  unfold  his  portentous  secret  without  fear  of 
interruption,  while  Bill,  who  objected  on  principle 
to  being  put  on  working  parties  and  fatigues,  felt 
that  the  best  safeguard  against  inclusion  in  these 
treats  was  an  alibi.  After  a  search  they  discovered 
a  snug  retreat  in  which  they  intended  to  spend  as 
much  of  their  spare  time  as  possible,  returning  to 


51 

their  mates  only  at  meal-times  and  other  occasions 
when  their  absence  might  be  noticed. 

The  afternoon  was  pleasantly  mild,  and  for  the 
first  time  the  air  seemed  to  contain  a  hint  of  Spring. 
Instead  of  retiring  underground  they  sat  in  the  en- 
trance of  their  new  home  quietly  smoking.  As  soon 
as  their  pipes  were  well  alight,  Alf  broached  the  sub- 
ject which  was  weighing  so  heavily  on  his  mind. 

"  Bill,"  he  asked.     "  D'yer  believe  in  spirits?  " 

"  Prefer  beer." 

"  Not  them  sort  o'  spirits,  I  don't  mean.  I  mean 
spooks.  D'yer  believe  in  spooks,  Bill?" 

"  People  what  sees  spooks,"  said  Bill  dogmati- 
cally, "  is  liars,  or  boozed." 

Grant's  attitude  was  unpromising,  but  Alf  was 
determined  to  persevere. 

"  What  would  yer  say  if  I  told  yer  I'd  seen  a 
spook,  Bill?"  he  demanded. 

"  I'd  say  you'd  'ad  a  drop  too  much,"  was  the  un- 
compromising reply. 

"  An'  if  I  saw  it  when  I  'adn't  'ad  a  drop  at 
all?" 

Bill  turned  and  regarded  him. 

"  Look  'ere,  Alf  'Iggins,"  he  remarked  acidly. 
"  Yer  worse'n  a  bloomin'  kid  f'r  asking  yer  blighted 
silly  questions.  If  you  got  anything  to  say,  for 
'Eaven's  sake  spit  it  out  an'  'ave  done  with  it." 

Thus  adjured,  Alf  plunged  into  his  story,  omitting 
only  his  adventure  with  the  aeroplanes,  which  he  con- 
sidered would  be  safer  hidden  even  from  Bill. 


52  ALPS  BUTTON 

That  gentleman  heard  him  to  the  end  without 
comment. 

"  I  b'lieve  it's  up  to  me  to  take  yer  to  the  M.O.," 
he  said  at  last  seriously. 

Alf  was  annoyed. 

"  Don't  be  a  idjit.  This  is  a  real  spook,  I  tell 
yer!" 

"  Garn !  You  bin  sleepin'  on  yer  back  an'  dreamt 
it  all.  Why,  this  'ere  Aladdin  you  talk  about  — 
there  never  was  no  sich  feller.  'E's  just  a  bloke  in 
a  fairy  story." 

"Dreamt  it!"  repeated  Alf  indignantly. 
"  Dream  be  blowed.  I  couldn't  dream  meself  pink 
all  over,  could  I  ?  " 

"  No,  but  you  could  catch  scarlet  fever  an'  'ave 
delirious  trimmings  on  top  of  it,"  said  Bill  causti- 
cally. "  But  you  can't  make  me  see  this  blessed 
spook  o'  yours,  any'ow." 

This  was  a  direct  challenge,  and  Alf  rubbed  his 
Button.  Bill's  tin  hat  fell  off. 

"  Lor' !  "  he  said,  sitting  up  straight. 

"What  wouldst  thou  have?"  enquired  Eustace. 
"  I  am  ready  to  obey  thee  as  thy  slave.  .  .  ." 

"  'Op  it,"  replied  Alf  feebly.  He  had  forgotten 
to  think  out  any  excuse  for  summoning  the  djinn, 
and  could  think  of  nothing  else  to  say.  Eustace,  his 
opinion  of  Alf  obviously  lower  than  ever,  disap- 
peared. 

"  Lumme !  "  said  Bill.  He  smoked  in  silence  for 
some  minutes,  deep  in  thought. 


53 

"  Where  the  'ell  does  'e  come  from,  and  what 
does  'e  do?  "  he  asked  at  length. 


"  That  spook,  o'  course." 

"  I  dunno.  I  rubs  me  Button,  an'  'e  bounces  in 
an'  asks  for  orders.  'Alf  the  time  I  don't  want  'im 
at  all.  An'  if  I  do  tell  'im  to  do  things,  'e  gets  'em 
all  wrong.  'E  don't  seem  to  lave  no  common  sense, 
some'ow." 

Bill  was  following  out  some  train  of  thought. 

"  Look  'ere,  Alf,"  he  said.  "  What  can  you  re- 
member about  this  feller  Aladdin?  What  'appened 
to  'im  in  the  panto?  " 

Alf  considered. 

'  There  was  a  bloke  sang  something  about  a  rose 
growin'  in  a  garden.  Pathetic  it  was,"  he  an- 
nounced after  deep  thought. 

"  Blighted  fool  !  "  commented  Bill  with  pardon- 
able heat.  "  I  don't  mean  that.  What  'appened 
to  this  chap,  Aladdin,  'isself  ?  " 

"  Oh,  'im  1  A  bloomin'  girl,  'e  was,  in  the 
pantomime.  I  didn't  take  much  notice  what  'ap- 
pened to  'im  —  married  some  one,  I  think." 

"Yes,  but  'oo?  "  asked  Bill,  with  an  air  of  playing 
his  trump  card. 

"  I  dunno.     Princess  Something." 

"  That's  what  I  remember.  An'  they  'ad  palaces, 
an'  jools,  an'  money,  an'  everything.  An'  'ow  did 
they  get  'em,  eh  ?  " 

"  I  dunno." 


54  ALPS  BUTTON 

Alf  was  really  being  very  dense.  Bill  tapped  him 
impressively  on  the  arm. 

"  Your  spook  brought  'em,"  he  said. 

"Eustace?" 

"That  what  you  call  'im?     Yes,  'im." 

They  gazed  at  each  other,  Bill  in  triumph.  Alf 
in  astonishment;  at  last  the  latter  found  his  voice. 

"  I  never  thought  o'  that  kind  o'  thing!  "  he  said. 

"  No,  you're  a  proper  thick-'ed,"  retorted  Grant 
unkindly.  "  Now,  you  send  for  'im  an'  make  'im 
do  something  useful  for  a  change." 

"What  shall  it  be?" 

"  Mine,"  replied  Bill,  without  hesitation,  "  is  beer. 
Always  was.  An'  mind,  none  o'  that  Govermint 
muck  neither.  Something  with  a  bit  o'  body  in  it." 

"  Send  'im  for  beer?  "  whispered  Alf  in  horror. 
He  could  not  have  looked  more  shocked  if  Bill  had 
suggested  sending  the  sergeant-major  to  buy  him  a 
paper.  He  had  an  instinctive  feeling  that  Eustace 
was  one  to  do  things  on  a  grand  scale,  and  would 
resent  being  employed  as  a  mere  potman.  He 
rubbed  his  Button  nervously,  and  avoided  Eustace's 
eye. 

"  Is  it  my  Lord's  desire  that  his  servant  should 
hop  it?"  asked  the  spirit,  abandoning  his  usual 
formula.  He  was,  he  felt,  just  beginning  to  settle 
down  to  his  new  master's  ways. 

"  No,"  said  Alf,  fixing  his  eyes  on  vacancy. 
"  Bring  me  two  beers,  please,  Eustace." 

"Two  biers,  O  possessor  of  wisdom?"  repeated 


EUSTACE  FETCHES  BEER  55; 

the  djinn,  wondering  if  his  startled  ears  could  have 
heard  aright. 

"  Yes.     Two  beers,  I  said.     And  'urry  up." 

Eustace  bowed  low,  muttered  "  Thy  wish  is  my 
command,"  and  vanished.  Almost  immediately 
afterwards,  with  a  dull  thud  apiece,  two  cumber- 
some and  curiously  carved  stone  sarcophagi  fell  side 
by  side  into  the  trench,  which  they  blocked  com- 
pletely. Alf  and  Bill  gazed  open-mouthed  first  at 
the  two  sepulchers  and  then  at  one  another. 

"  What  the  'ell's  this  mean?  "  asked  Bill  at  last. 

Alf,  mortified  beyond  measure  at  the  failure  of 
his  attempt  to  impress  his  pal,  gave  a  resigned  ges- 
ture. 

"  What  did  I  tell  yer?  "  he  asked.  "  That's  the 
kind  o'  thing  'e's  always  doin' !  No  common 


sense." 


"  Well,  p'raps  'e  misunderstood  yer.  P'raps  'e 
thought  you  wanted.  .  .  ." 

"  Thought  I  wanted!  Didn't  I  speak  plain  Eng- 
lish? Ain't  'beer'  plain  enough  for  'im?  'Ow 
can  'e  'ave  misunderstood  '  beer  '  ?  " 

"Well,  p'raps  these  'ere  things  are  called  {  beer  ' 
in  'is  language." 

Alf  snorted. 

"  I  ask  yer,  do  they  look  like  it?  No,  it's  just 
'is  fat-'eaded  way." 

He  rubbed  his  Button  fiercely. 

"  Take  these  blinkin'  egg-boxes  away,  Eustace," 
he  said.  "  An'  pull  yerself  together.  I  asked 


56  ALPS  BUTTON 

yer    for   beer  —  stuff   what   you    drinks,    savvy?" 

He  made  a  gesture  of  drinking.  The  djinn,  with 
a  sudden  light  of  comprehension  in  his  face,  bowed 
and  vanished  with  the  sarcophagi,  to  reappear  a 
moment  later  with  an  enormous  tray  on  his  head. 
From  this  he  proceeded  to  deal  out  a  great  number 
of  covered  metal  plates,  exactly  as  a  conjurer  pro- 
duces strange  objects  from  a  top  hat.  He  set  them 
down  in  the  trench,  and  with  a  final  flourish  brought 
forth  an  enormous  silver  flagon  and  two  heavily 
chased  goblets.  These  he  placed  with  the  other 
things,  and  disappeared. 

"Ah!"  said  Bill,  smacking  his  lips  in  anticipa- 
tion. "  This  looks  more  like  it.  Bit  'olesale  in  'is 
ways,  ain't  'e?  Seems  to  take  us  for  the  Lord 
Mayor's  Banquet." 

He  lifted  the  cover  from  one  of  the  plates  and 
smelt  the  contents. 

"  Fish  o'  some  kind,"  he  said  dubiously.  "  Smells 
funny.  Never  could  stand  them  foreign  messes." 

Alf  did  likewise  to  another  dish. 

"  Muck,"  he  said  succinctly.  "  Give  me  good  ole 
roast  beef  an'  mutton  every  time.  I  likes  to  know 
what  I'm  eatin',  I  do.  Pour  the  drink  out,  Bill." 

Thus  adjured,  Bill  filled  the  goblets  and  passed 
one  to  Alf. 

"Good  'ealth!" 

"  Good  'ealth !  "  chorused  both  warriors.  Their 
heads  went  back  in  unison;  also  in  unison,  they  gave 
a  tremendous  splutter  of  disgust. 


EUSTACE  FETCHES  BEER     57 

"  My  Gawd!  "  said  Alf  thickly,  "  Fm  poisoned! 
What  the  'ell  is  it?" 

"  Tastes  like  a  mixture  of  'oney  an'  ink,  with  a 
dash  o'  chlorate  o'  lime,"  said  Bill,  apparently  try- 
ing to  shake  the  remains  of  the  nauseous  mixture 
from  the  roof  of  his  mouth.  "  'Ere,  'ave  that 
blinkin'  spook  o'  yours  back  again  an'  tell  'im  orf." 

Once  more  Alf  rubbed  the  button  and  summoned 
his  familiar. 

"  What  wouldst  thou  have,"  said  Eustace,  ap- 
pearing promptly,  but  with  a  trace  of  resentment  in 
his  face.  "  I  am  ready.  .  .  ." 

"  Stow  it !  "  said  Alf.  "  You're  a  lot  too  ready, 
seems  to  me.  Why  d'yer  want  to  bring  us  all  this 
bloomin'  lay-out?  I  didn't  order  no  food,  an'  if  I 
'ad  I  wouldn't  'ave  meant  un'oly  messes  like  that. 
You're  too  blinkin'  'olesale  in  yer  ways.  Take  it  all 
away.  An'  as  for  drink,  you've  'arf  poisoned  us 
with  the  muck  you've  brought." 

"  Lord  of  might,"  said  Eustace.  u  These  are 
of  the  choicest  of  the  meats  and  the  wines  of 
Arabia." 

"  Gawd  'elp  Arabia,  then.  An'  I  asked  for  beer, 
B-E-A-R,  beer.  D'yer  mean  to  say  they  don't  'ave 
it  in  Arabia?" 

Eustace  shook  his  head. 

"Poor  blighters!"  put  in  Bill.  "No  wonder 
they're  'eathens." 

"  Now,  look  'ere,  Eustace,"  said  Alf  instructively. 
"Beer  is  —  er  —  beer  is  —  well,  it's.  ...  I  say, 


58  ALF'S  BUTTON 

Bill,  'ow  the  'ell  can  yer  explain  beer  to  any  one  as 
doesn't  know  what  it  is?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Bill.  "  It's  brown  stuff,  made  from 
'ops  an'  malt  an'  such,  an'  you  get  it  in  Blighty  — 
that's  England,  you  savvy  —  in  barrels.  Just  you 
'op  over  there,  an'  you'll  see.  Or  any  one'll  tell 
you." 

This  lucid  explanation  sufficed  Eustace,  for  this 
time  he  disappeared  with  the  scorned  banquet,  and 
returned  in  a  twinkling  with  two  foaming  tank- 
ards. 

Alf  and  Bill  smelt  the  contents  with  grave  sus- 
picion, which  changed  at  once  to  a  happy  foaming 
smile  apjece. 

"That's  the  goods!  "  said  Alf. 

"Ah!"  said  Bill,  smacking  his  lips  with  deep 
satisfaction.  "  Ole  Aladdin  knew  a  thing  or  two, 
'e  did.  Let's  'ave  another  o'  the  same  an'  drink  'is 
'ealth." 

"  No,  Bill.  It'll  'urt  ole  Eustace'  feelings.  If 
you  was  a  spook  what  could  build  palaces  an'  sich 
in  'arf  a  tick,  would  you  like  to  'ave  to  go  all  the 
way  to  'ell  for  two  bloomin'  pints?  Besides  we've 
kept  'im  on  the  go  pretty  fair  as  it  is." 

"  Make  it  'ogs'eds,  then." 

But  Alf  was  adamant. 

*  Very  well,  don't  then,"  said  Grant  with  sudden 
asperity.  "  But  if  yer  won't  oblige  a  pal  in  a  little 
thing  like  that,  w'y  don't  yer  get  on  with  it  an'  do 
something?  Fat  lot  o'  good  you  done  so  far  with 


EUSTACE  FETCHES  BEER     59 

yer  pet  devil!  W'y,  yer  mighter  stopped  the  'ole 
war  by  now." 

"Might  I?     'Ow?" 

"  Easy  enough.  All  you  gotter  do  is  to  send  ole 
Eustace  over  to  fetch  the  Kaiser  'ere,  an'  there  yer 
are !  Can't  yer  see  it  in  all  the  papers  — '  Private 
Alf  'Iggins,  V.C. —  The  'ero  as  captured  the 
Kaiser'?" 

"  Yes,  I  see  meself  gettin'  it  in  the  neck.  I  'ope 
I  knows  my  place  better'n  to  go  monkeyin'  with 
kings.  .  .  .  Look  out,  the  orficers !  " 

It  was  too  late  for  them  to  gain  the  sanctuary  of 
their  dug-out,  and  they  rose  awkwardly  to  their  feet 
as  Shaw  and  Donaldson  came  along  the  trench. 
They  had  been  out  on  an  exploring  expedition.  Bill 
and  Alf,  seeing  that  neither  Richards  nor  Allen  was 
present,  had  hopes  that  they  would  not  attract  at- 
tention; but  Donaldson,  for  all  his  sleepy  appear- 
ance, was  quick  of  eye. 

"What's  that  in  your  hand,  Grant?"  he  asked. 

Bill,  cursing  inwardly  the  prying  spirit  to  which 
he  considered  the  commissioned  ranks  much  too 
prone,  reluctantly  drew  from  behind  him  the  tankard 
from  which  he  had  been  drinking.  Higgins  did  like- 
wise, and  the  officers  took  one  each. 

"  How  awfully  interesting,"  said  Shaw- 
"  Where  did  you  find  these,  Grant?  " 

"  In  one  of  these  'ere  dug-outs,  sir." 

"  By  Jove,  Don !  "  Shaw  turned  to  his  companion,, 
"  Fritz  does  love  to  do  himself  well !  " 


60  ALF'S  BUTTON 

He  broke  off  in  surprise.  Donaldson  had  sud- 
denly thrown  off  his  air  of  boredom  and  was  ex- 
amining his  tankard  with  an  alert  eye. 

"  Must  be  looted  stuff,"  he  said.  "  I'm  a  bit  of 
an  expert  in  these  things.  That's  ancient  oriental 
work,  worth  quite  a  bit." 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  put  in  Bill  suavely.  "  But  if 
this  'ere  is  any  good  to  you  as  a  souvenir,  I  don't  set 
no  partickler  store  by  it." 

"  Nor  me,  sir,"  agreed  Alf. 

"Want  to  sell?" 

"  If  you  like,  sir." 

"  Can't  afford  it.  I'm  not  going  to  do  you  in. 
These  mugs  are  probably  worth  a  good  bit." 

"  That's  all  right,  sir.  We'd  much  rather  'ave 
ten  francs  apiece  now,  sir.  We  didn't  neither  of  us 
get  much  last  time  we  'ad  a  pay." 

"  Whose  fault  was  that?  "  asked  Shaw. 

"  I'll  give  you,"  Donaldson  said,  "  twenty  francs 
each  —  all  I  can  manage." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

"  And  mind,  I  expect  to  see  some  of  this  sent  home 
when  I  censor  the  letters.  I  wouldn't  give  you  so 
much  all  at  once  if  we  were  in  a  place  where  we 
could  get  beer " 

"  Aren't  we,  though,"  put  in  Shaw,  pointing  to 
a  drop  of  amber  liquid  in  the  tankard  he  held. 
"Smell  that!" 

Donaldson  sniffed. 

"  Beer,  and  good  beer  at  that,"  he  pronounced. 


EUSTACE  FETCHES  BEER     61 

He  looked  enquiringly  at  the  two  Tommies.  Alf 
gave  himself  up  for  lost,  but  not  so  Bill. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  said  easily.  "  I  noticed  that  me- 
self." 

"  I  dare  say,"  answered  Donaldson  grimly. 
"The  point  is,  can  you  explain  it?" 

Bill's  face  grew  preternaturally  innocent. 

"  I  expect,  sir,  Fritz  left  the  mugs  behind  'im  in 
the  Big  Frost,  sir,  an'  the  drops  got  froze  in. 
Prob'ly  thawed  again  with  the  warmth  of  our  'ands." 

Donaldson  eyed  the  propounder  of  this  ingenious 
theory  gravely. 

"  Probably,"  he  agreed.  And  relapsing  into  his 
customary  taciturnity,  he  strode  off  down  the  trench 
with  his  two  mugs,  little  Shaw  trotting  behind,  still 
lost  in  wonder  at  the  sudden  discovery  of  an  artistic 
side  in  old  Don. 

"  'E  don't  believe  yer,"  said  Alf  apprehensively. 

"  'Course  not.  'E's  no  fool,  isn't  Don,  for  all  'e 
looks  'arf  asleep.  But  Vs  a  sport,  an'  'e  likes  a 
good  lie.  You'll  see,  Vll  say  no  more  about  it. 
Let's  'ave  another." 

Alf,  whose  throat  was  parched  with  all  he  had 
been  through,  this  time  let  no  consideration  for  the 
feelings  of  Eustace  deter  him. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ISOBEL'S  "  DREAM  " 

FOR  the  next  day  or  two  Alf  found  life  very 
hard.  Bill's  appetite  for  beer  increased  by 
geometrical  progression;  and  Eustace's  possible  in- 
dignation at  being  constantly  summoned  merely  to 
supply  Private  Grant  with  large  bitters  filled  Alf 
with  the  liveliest  apprehension.  He  felt  that  Bill 
—  who,  under  the  influence  of  unlimited  liquor,  was 
losing  his  moral  sense  —  was  not  playing  the  game. 
He  even  descended  to  the  level  of  intimidating  Hig- 
gins,  when  he  declared  himself  unprepared  to  risk 
the  djinn's  displeasure  any  longer,  by  the  use  of 
threats. 

"  Stop  me  beer,  will  yer?  "  said  Grant.  "  Very 
well,  then.  We'll  just  see  what  the  R.S.M.  'as  to 
say  about  yer  goin's  on.  'E  won't  'arf  tell  yer  orf, 
Idcn'tthink!" 

The  regimental  sergeant-major  is  ex  officio  the 
most  terrible  individual  of  a  battalion  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  private  soldier.  True,  the 
colonel  is  greater  than  he,  in  that  from  that  officer 
the  R.S.M.  takes  his  orders;  but  the  colonel  —  so 
far  as  Higgins  and  his  peers  were  concerned  —  was 
a  mere  abstraction.  The  R.S.M.  overshadowed 

62 


ISOBEL'S  "  DREAM  "  63 

him  much  as,  in  the  eyes  of  unimaginative  heathens, 
the  priest  overshadows  the  deity  whose  minister  he 
is. 

The  R.S.M.  of  the  5th  Middlesex  Fusiliers,  too, 
was  a  martinet  of  the  most  approved  Regular  Army 
type.  His  horizon  was  bounded  on  the  one  side  by 
King's  Regulations  and  on  the  other  by  the  Manual 
of  Military  Law;  and  if  he  should  become  aware 
that  a  private  of  his  battalion  was  so  lost  to  the 
meaning  of  military  discipline  as  to  keep  an  un- 
authorized familiar  spirit,  the  only  possible  result 
would  be  an  explosion  of  wrath  too  terrible  even  to 
contemplate.  Of  this  threat,  therefore,  Bill  Grant 
made  shameless  use ;  and  day  by  day  he  became  more 
bibulous,  Eustace  more  displeased,  and  Alf  more 
miserable. 

Alf  racked  his  rather  inadequate  brains  in  the 
hope  that  Necessity  would  acknowledge  her  reputed 
offspring,  Invention,  and  find  him  a  way  out  of  his 
troubles.  But  in  the  end  Bill  brought  about  his  own 
undoing.  He  had  a  lively  and,  in  his  cups,  a  lurid 
imagination;  and  by  giving  it  too  free  rein,  he  sug- 
gested to  Alf  a  counter-threat. 

"  'Ow'd  it  be,  ole  f'ler,"  said  Bill  thickly,  on  the 
second  day,  after  having  kept  Eustace  almost  con- 
tinuously employed  for  several  hours,  "  to  'ave  old 
Eustish  up  again  'n  tell  'im  to  turn  the  R.Esh.M. 
into  a  rhinosherush  ?  " 

To  Alf  this  remark  seemed  not  so  much  humorous 
as  blasphemous;  but  it  was  also  most  illuminating. 


64  ALF'S  BUTTON 

It  opened  his  eyes  to  an  aspect  of  his  new  powers 
which,  left  to  himself,  he  would  never  have  thought 
of. 

"Look  'ere,  Bill  Grant!"  he  said,  in  suddenly 
confident  tones.  "  That'll  be  about  enough  from 
you,  see?  Not  another  drop  o'  beer  do  you  get  till 
I  says  so.  'E's  my  spook,  Eustace  is;  an'  if  I  'as 
any  more  o'  yer  nonsense  I'll  take  an'  tell  'im  to 
change  you  into  something.  'Ow'd  yer  like  to  be  a 
—  a  transport  mule,  eh?" 

Bill,  suddenly  smitten  into  something  approach- 
ing sobriety,  had  no  word  to  say.  Alf,  following 
up  his  advantage,  continued  his  harangue. 

"  Not  one  drop  more  do  yer  get,"  he  reiterated. 
"  Eustace  'as  been  gettin'  that  fed  up,  I've  been 
expectin'  'im  to  give  me  a  month's  notice  any  min- 
ute. An'  nice  we'd  look  if  'e  started  playin'  monkey 
tricks  on  'is  own.  All  this  beer  business,  you  know; 
it  ain't  what  'e's  been  brought  up  to." 

"  'E  can't  do  nothin',  not  without  you  tells  'im," 
said  Bill,  with  a  certainty  he  was  far  from  feeling. 

"  Ah,  an'  'ow  do  we  know  that?  'E  might  break 
loose  an'  then  where'd  we  be?  I've  fair  got  the 
wind  up,  I  tell  yer.  What  we  wanted  to  do  is  to 
'umor  the  blighter." 

'"Ow?" 

"  I  dunno.  'Ow'd  it  be  to  give  'im  something  to 
do  as  'e'd  really  enjoy  —  a  decent  job  just  to  put  'im 
in  a  good  temper  again?  " 

"  Buildin'  palaces  was  'is  old  line,"  mused  Bill. 


ISOBEL'S  "DREAM"  65 

"  Aye,  but  buildin'  palaces  'ere  would  be  just  a 
blighted  waste  o'  time,"  replied  Alf,  with  strong 
common  sense.  "  Can't  you  think  o'  nothin'  else?  " 

Bill  pondered  deeply. 

"  Tell  'im,"  he  suggested  at  last,  "  to  bring  us  a 
girl.  I'm  fair  sick  for  the  sight  of  a  pretty  face." 

"  Dunno  if  that's  much  good.  'E  mayn't  care  for 
females." 

"  Well,  it  is  part  of  'is  peace-time  job,  anyway. 
Don't  I  tell  yer  'e  brought  Aladdin  a  princess?  " 

"  I'll  try  it.  Any'ow,  it'll  be  a  change  for  'im 
arter  all  that  beer." 

Eustace,  it  was  obvious,  approved  of  the  idea. 
This  new  command  was  completely  in  accord  with 
his  ancient  tradition. 

"A  maid  fair  as  the  dawn,  great  Master!  It 
shall  be  so !  "  he  said. 

"Yes,  and" — Alf  suddenly  remembered  a  re- 
cent abortive  attempt  to  dally  with  a  pretty  French 
girl  in  an  estaminet,  and  determined  to  run  no  fur- 
ther risks  — "  a  English  one." 

"  'Ere,"  put  in  Bill.     "  Make  it  two." 

But  the  djinn  had  vanished. 

"  All  right,  Bill,"  Higgins  said  soothingly. 
"  We'll  send  'im  back  for  one  for  you.  Wonder 
what  'e'll  bring  for  me  —  one  of  the  'Ippodrome 
chorus,  I  'ope." 

Lady  Margaret  Clowes  and  Isobel  FitzPeter  were 
walking  together  along  the  edge  of  the  Row  in 


66  ALF'S  BUTTON 

Hyde  Park.  Margaret  was  wearing  the  workman- 
like, if  unbeautiful,  Red  Cross  uniform,  for  she  was 
a  hard-working  V.A.D.  at  a  private  hospital. 
Isobel  was  a  dainty  vision,  rivaling  the  lilies  of  the 
field. 

"  Did  I  tell  you  I'd  had  another  letter  from  my 
cousin  at  the  front?"  asked  Margaret. 

"Which  one?" 

"  Denis.  Denis  Allen.  He  sent  you  his  kind  re- 
gards. He's  a  nice  boy.  Do  you  remember  him?  " 

"  Hardly  at  all.  He  played  cricket  at  Dunwater 
once  or  twice  when  I  was  a  child.  Really,  Peggy, 
I'm  getting  fed  up  with  men.  Since  those  ridiculous 
papers  took  to  publishing  my  photograph,  every  silly 
boy  I've  ever  spoken  to  seems  to  want  me  to  write 
to  him." 

"  Why  do  you  let  them  do  it?  "  asked  Margaret. 

"  I  can't  stop  them  writing  to  me,  if  they  know 
my  address." 

"  The  papers,  I  mean.  It's  all  very  well  calling 
them  ridiculous,  but  you  know  that  you  give  them 
every  assistance." 

"  Rubbish !  "  Isobel's  voice  sounded  scornful, 
but  a  sudden  blush  gave  her  away.  Margaret,  who 
had  just  come  off  duty  after  an  unusually  exacting 
spell,  was  rather  out  of  patience  with  field-lilies. 
She  returned  to  the  attack. 

"  It  isn't  rubbish.  And  I  don't  think  you  ought 
to  talk  about  the  boys  who  write  to  you  as  you  do. 
You  make  me  very  angry.  After  all,  they  are  risk- 


ISOBEL'S  "DREAM"  67 

ing  their  lives,  which  is  more  than  you  can  say." 

"  Well,  how  can  I  ?  I've  often  told  you  I'd  love 
to  go  to  the  front,"  Isobel  protested. 

"  Yes  —  in  a  spirit  of  vulgar  curiosity,  I  suppose, 
just  to  have  a  look  round.  Iso,  I  could  shake  you, 
you're  so  self-satisfied,  and  so  futile." 

"  Well,  I  think  you're  horribly  rude.  If  you 
can't  be  more  amusing,  I'm  going  home.  I've  my 
part  to  learn  for.  .  .  ." 

"Oh  —  look!  there's  a  horse  bolting!"  inter- 
rupted Margaret.  She  ran  to  the  railings  and 
watched  breathlessly,  while  the  mounted  policeman 
on  duty,  who  seemed  to  regard  the  whole  affair  as 
being  in  the  day's  work,  caught  the  runaway  and 
averted  what  might  have  been  a  very  nasty  accident. 
When  she  turned  to  speak  to  her  companion,  Isobel 
was  no  longer  there. 

"Temper!"  thought  Margaret  to  herself.  "I 
suppose  I  was  rather  cross  —  but  really  Isobel's 
enough  to  try  a  saint  sometimes.  She  must  have 
gone  off  pretty  quickly,  too.  However.  .  .  ." 

Margaret  was  quite  undisturbed  —  even  a  little 
amused  at  her  friend's  departure.  She  and  Isobel 
often  had  fierce  little  quarrels,  but  these  never  had 
any  lasting  effect  on  their  friendship.  She  would 
see  Isobel  to-morrow,  and  the  whole  thing  would  be 
forgotten.  For  the  present,  she  continued  her  walk 
alone. 

An  old  gentleman  sitting  on  a  seat  near  by,  who 
had  chanced  to  be  looking  at  Isobel  at  the  moment 


68  ALF'S  BUTTON 

when  Eustace  (having  awarded  her  the  prize  in  his 
private  beauty  competition)  swooped  down  and  car- 
ried her  off,  was  the  only  actual  spectator  of  her  dis- 
appearance. Doubting  the  evidence  of  his  senses, 
he  waited  anxiously  until  Margaret  should  find  out 
what  had  happened;  he  looked  for  her  to  scream  or 
faint,  or  show  her  horror  by  some  emotional  up- 
heaval; when  she  simply  walked  on  as  if  nothing 
out  of  the  ordinary  had  happened,  he  was  smitten 
with  panic.  He  dashed  home  and  went  straight  to 
bed. 

Isobel's  surprise  and  alarm  when  she  found  her- 
self unexpectedly  face  to  face  with  two  tinhatted 
and  unwashed  Tommies  in  a  subterranean  cavern, 
lit  only  by  a  feeble  gleam  of  daylight  from  the  roof, 
was  obvious;  but  she  was  too  well  bred  to  allow  her 
emotions  to  master  her.  For  a  moment,  conscious 
thought  seemed  to  be  suspended  in  her.  Then,  as 
the  objects  about  her  took  shape,  she  decided  that 
she  must  be  dreaming. 

At  once  all  sense  of  fear  left  her.  If  it  was  only 
a  dream,  she  argued  to  herself,  it  could  not  matter 
what  happened  to  her.  She  waited  with  a  kind  of 
amused  expectancy  to  see  what  turn  events  would 
take. 

Alf  and  Bill,  on  the  other  hand,  were  not  a  little 
disturbed.  They  had  realized  at  once  that  Eustace, 
in  his  ignorance,  had  committed  an  awful  social 
solecism.  Even  the  resourceful  Bill's  imagination 


ISOBEL'S  "DREAM"  69 

boggled  at  the  idea  of  explaining  to  this  dainty 
vision  how  she  came  to  be  in  her  present  surround- 
ings. They  stood  before  her,  embarrassed  and 
tongue-tied.  Alf  thought  of  recalling  the  djinn  and 
telling  him  to  take  her  straight  back;  but  his  very 
real  and  increasing  fear  of  offending  his  familiar 
forbade.  Besides,  'his  visitor  was  very  lovely,  and 
filled  his  jaded  masculine  eye  with  a  lively  sense  of 
satisfaction. 

After  a  while  the  silence  became  oppressive  and 
Isobel  spoke. 

"  Where  am  I?  "  she  asked.     "  Who  are  you?  " 

Bill,  who  had  been  making  a  surreptitious  and 
feline  toilet  in  the  gloomy  recesses  of  the  dug-out, 
stepped  forward  and  saluted. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  miss,"  he  said  soothingly, 
"  but  this  'ere's  a  dug-out  in  France,  on  the  Western 
Front." 

"  That  proves  it,"  said  Isobel  to  herself,  with  a 
certain  satisfaction.  "  It  is  just  a  vivid  dream. 
Perhaps  it's  telepathy  or  levitation  or  something. 
Anyway,  the  great  point  to  remember  is  that  I'm 
not  really  here  at  all." 

The  two  men  watched  her  anxiously.  Both  had 
expected  her  to  be  terrified  at  the  news.  Her  air  of 
unruffled  serenity  alarmed  them,  because  neither 
could  understand  it. 

"  Now  let  me  see,"  she  continued  her  train  of 
thought  — "  a  few  minutes  ago,  I  was  in  the  Park 
with  Peggy  —  but  perhaps  I  dreamt  that,  too.  In 


70  ALPS  BUTTON 

fact  I  must  have.  ...  I  don't  remember  going  to 
bed,  though.  .  .  .  Oh,  well,  it's  no  good  worrying, 
it'll  be  all  right  when  I  wake  up.  A  dug-out?" 
She  echoed  Bill's  words  uncertainly. 

'  Yes,  miss.  I'm  very  sorry,  miss.  If  you 
please,  it's  all  a  mistake.  We  didn't  mean  no  'arm. 
If  you'll  just  wait  a  minute,  we'll  send  you  back 
again  to  London  quite  all.  .  .  ." 

But  Isobel's  usual  spirit  returned  to  her  at  this 
point.  Whether  this  was  dream  or  miracle,  she  de- 
termined to  see  it  through. 

"Send  me  back?"  she  said.  "No,  indeed  you 
shan't !  I've  always  longed  to  see  the  front.  They 
won't  let  me  in  real  life,  and  now  you're  trying  to 
spoil  it  in  a  dream.  If  you  only  knew  how  I've 
tried  to  get  leave  to  come  over !  It's  too  absolutely 
divine  for  anything —  I  wouldn't  miss  it  for  worlds. 
And  I'm  sure  you'll  be  very  kind  and  show  me  round, 
Mr.  .  .  ." 

"  'Iggins  —  Private  Alfred  'Iggins,  5th  Middle- 
sex Fusiliers.  An'  this  is  me  pal,  Private  Grant." 

"  Pleasetermeacher!  "  mumbled  Bill,  saluting. 

"Well,  you  will,  won't  you?"  Isobel  smiled  at 
them  suddenly  and  beseechingly.  Alf  capitulated. 

"  'Appy  to,  miss,"  replied  the  infatuated  youth. 
"  What  is  it  you  wants  to  see?  " 

"  Everything.  I  want  to  see  just  how  you  live 
and  what  you  do.  I  want  to  see  a  shell  burst,  and 
—  oh,  everything." 


ISOBEL'S  "DREAM"  71 

"  Better  not  bother  with  shells,  miss,"  said  Bill 
grimly;  "  one  might  'it  you." 

"Oh,  but  that  doesn't  matter  in  a  dream!  Is 
this  the  way  up?  " 

She  climbed  up  the  steep  and  difficult  staircase, 
gallantly  assisted  by  Alf.  Bill  followed  gloomily, 
his  mind  busy  with  wondering  first  what  would  hap- 
pen if  a  stray  long-distance  shell  did  injure  Isobel, 
and  second  what  Sergeant  Lees  or  any  of  his  supe- 
riors would  say  if  he  saw  them. 

The  same  thought  struck  Alf  as  they  reached  the 
trench  above. 

"  Company  'Edquarters  is  up  there,"  he  said,  with 
a  jerk  of  the  thumb.  "  We'd  best  go  the  other 
way." 

Isobel,  making  shameless  play  with  her  eyes,  laid 
a  hand  for  one  moment  on  Alf's  arm. 

"  What  is  a  Company  Headquarters?  "  she  asked. 
"  I  want  to  see  it." 

A  subtle,  faint  perfume  reached  Alf's  nostrils  and 
thrilled  him  all  through.  Now  that  she  was  in  the 
full  light  of  day,  he  could  take  in  her  exquisite 
quality.  Her  clothes,  though  obviously  expensive, 
were  too  plain  to  suit  Bill's  untutored  eye,  but  Alf, 
possessing  by  some  queer  freak  of  nature  an  unex- 
pectedly true  taste,  saw  in  her  the  apotheosis  of  all 
that  was  most  admirable  in  women.  By  all  the 
laws  of  probability  his  tastes  should  have  been  for 
bright  colors  and  nodding  feathers,  but  such  decora- 


72  ALPS  BUTTON 

tions  left  him  cold,  while  this  girl  struck  him  dumb. 
She  was  simply  the  embodiment  of  his  ideal. 

"  Now  I'm  here,"  she  went  on,  "  I  want  to  see 
for  myself  just  what  you  poor  men  have  to  put  up 
with.  How  awful  it  must  be  to  live  in  a  trench  like 
this.  And  can't  you  show  me  a  German?  " 

She  smiled  up  into  Alf's  face. 

That  smile  galvanized  him  as  before,  into  a  dis- 
play of  rash  gallantry. 

"'So  you  shall,  miss,"  he  said.  "  Just  step  along 
the  trench  'ere,  and  we'll  show  you  all  we  can." 

Isobel  surveyed  the  trench  doubtfully  and  then 
looked  down  at  her  delicately  shod  feet. 

"  Couldn't  we  walk  along  the  top?"  she  asked. 
"  It  all  seems  so  quiet  and  peaceful  —  surely  there'd 
be  no  danger.  We  must  be  a  long  way  from  the 
Germans,  aren't  we?" 

"  It's  not  Fritz,  miss,"  interposed  Bill  earnestly. 
"  It's  our  sergeant.  'E  mustn't  see  us  with  you. 
A  fair  terror,  'e  is." 

"  Oh,"  said  Isobel  easily,  feeling  that  she  could 
deal  with  these  dream-people  of  hers  as  she  pleased. 
"  I'll  see  you  don't  get  into  trouble.  This  is  such 
an  opportunity  —  I  mustn't  waste  it  ...  here's  a 
flight  of  steps,  if  you'll  give  me  your  hand  again 
and.  .  .  ." 

She  reached  the  top  and  her  voice  ceased  as  sud- 
denly and  uncannily  as  a  voice  ceases  when  it  is  cut 
off  in  the  middle  of  a  word  on  the  telephone.  She 
stood  staring  dumbly  across  the  old  No-Man's- 


ISOBEL'S  "DREAM"  73 

Land,  making  in  her  dainty  furs  the  strangest  pic- 
ture that  battle-scarred  strip  of  land  had  seen.  Alf 
and  Bill,  one  on  each  side  of  her,  gazed,  too. 

"  There  ain't  much  to  see  'ere,  I'm  afraid,  miss," 
said  the  latter  apologetically.  According  to  his 
lights,  Bill  spoke  the  truth.  To  his  accustomed  eyes 
there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  worthy  of  special  men- 
tion; but  to  Isobel  —  pitch- forked  straight  from  her 
sheltered,  mindless  life  into  the  very  heart  of  the 
battle  area  —  it  was  far  otherwise. 

Her  first  feeling  was  that  her  dream  had  suddenly 
turned  to  horrible  nightmare.  Surely  nothing  but 
distorted  fancy  could  have  produced  the  scene  before 
her  eyes !  It  was  as  though  the  earth  had  been  some 
stricken  monster,  which  had  stiffened  into  death  in 
the  very  midst  of  the  maddened  writhings  of  its  last 
agony.  For  the  most  part  it  was  a  land  without 
landmarks  —  a  land  featureless,  but  torn  and  tor- 
tured, poisoned  and  pulverized,  where  the  eye  could 
find  no  certain  resting-place  and  the  mind  no  relief. 
On  every  side  lay  the  same  desolate  waste,  pock- 
marked with  shell-holes,  each  of  which  was  half 
filled  with  stagnant  and  stinking  water,  on  the  sur- 
face of  which  was  an  oozing  and  fetid  scum.  Here 
and  there  the  ragged  remains  of  a  barbed-wire  en- 
tanglement stood  out  above  the  general  welter;  here 
and  there  —  but  very  rarely  —  a  few  scattered 
stones  indicated  where  once  had  stood  a  cottage; 
here  and  there  fluttered  decayed  rags  of  blue  or 
khaki  or  field-gray.  .  .  .  Cartridge-cases,  bits  of 


74  ALPS  BUTTON 

equipment,  bully-beef  tins  —  all  kinds  of  abandoned 
rubbish  were  scattered  about. 

On  the  right  ran  the  main  road  —  the  one  feature 
of  the  whole  pitiful  panorama  which  still  retained 
some  individuality.  Once  it  had  been  famous  for  its 
avenue  of  tall  trees.  Those  trees  still  flanked  the 
roadway,  but  now  the  tallest  of  them  was  a  ravaged 
stump  standing  a  bare  four  feet  above  the  ground, 
and  the  same  gun-fire  that  had  smitten  them  down 
had  smashed  the  road  itself  into  a  sickly  yellow 
pulp. 

Once,  no  doubt,  the  road  had  run  between  fields 
green  with  grass  or  young  corn;  but  now  it  seemed 
to  Isobel  beyond  imagining  that  life  could  ever  again 
come  near  to  it.  Even  the  vilest  weed  might  shud- 
der to  grow  on  earth's  dead  body,  mangled  and  cor- 
rupted and  shamefully  exposed.  .  .  . 

Alf's  voice  broke  the  silence. 

"  It's  a  bit  dull  'ere,  miss,"  he  said,  with  cheerful 
bathos.  "  There  ain't  much  to  show  yer.  But  see 
yon  mound  over  there  on  the  left?  That  was  a 
church  once,  that  was.  But  you  can  'unt  all  day  and 
never  find  nothing  of  the  buildin',  all  except  the 
church  bell;  —  on'y  it's  too  far  to  walk  in  them 
boots.  One  of  our  C.T.'s  —  communication 
trenches,  I  should  say  —  runs  right  underneath  it." 

Isobel  gave  no  answer,  unless  a  sound  something 
between  a  gulp  and  a  sob  can  be  so  described. 
Depths  seemed  to  be  stirring  in  her  nature  that  she 
had  not  hitherto  been  conscious  of  possessing.  She 


ISOBEL'S  "DREAM"  75 

felt  mean  and  small  and  bitterly  humbled.  She  had 
desired  to  see  the  front  out  of  mere  heedless  curios- 
ity, as  a  child  might  wish  to  visit  a  slaughter-house. 
She  had  had  her  desire,  and  her  eyes  had  seen  unim- 
aginable horrors  —  horrors  which  had  become  so 
much  a  commonplace  to  the  men  who  passed  their 
lives  in  this  shambles  that  they  apologized  for  its 
lack  of  greater  horrors.  Compared  with  what  they 
had  seen,  there  was  "  nothing  much  "  here  for  her 
curious  eye.  Only  a  strip  of  ground  fought  over 
a  month  before  —  its  dead  buried,  its  wounded  car- 
ried away  to  a  smiling  land  where  such  as  she  were 
flattered  and  praised  in  the  public  press  because  out 
of  their  useless  lives  they  deigned  to  devote  an  oc- 
casional hour  to  those  same  wounded. 

A  sudden  horror  came  over  her  lest  she  should  see 
a  dead  man.  She  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands 
and  gave  a  convulsive  shudder. 

"  Don't  —  don't  take  me  over  there!  "  she  said, 
and  climbed  down  the  steps  again  into  the  trench. 

Bill  and  Alf,  much  concerned  to  understand  what 
could  possibly  have  upset  their  visitor,  were  on  the 
point  of  following,  when  there  was  a  sound  of 
squelching  mud,  and  a  figure  appeared  round  the 
angle  of  the  trench. 

"  Lumme !  "  said  Bill's  voice  in  an  appalled  whis- 
per. "The  orficer!"  With  one  accord  the  two 
Tommies  turned  and  fled  as  their  platoon,  com- 
mander approached. 

Lieutenant  Allen  had  been  tramping  about  all  the 


76  ALF'S  BUTTON 

afternoon,  reconnoitering  the  approaches  to  the 
front  line  in  case  of  trouble.  Muddy  and  hungry 
and  dog-tired,  he  was  now  plodding  mechanically 
back  to  his  hole  in  the  ground,  while  his  thoughts 
wandered  vaguely  and  wistfully  to  home  and  his  peo- 
ple —  and  Isobel.  At  the  sound  of  Bill's  whisper 
he  looked  up  and  stopped  dead.  Clearly  his  nerves 
must  be  beginning  to  give  way,  for  he  seemed  to  see 
the  subject  of  his  thoughts  standing  before  him  in 
the  trench. 

"  My  God  !  "  he  exclaimed  — "  Isobel !  " 

She  stared  at  the  muddy  figure  before  her  for  a 
long  moment.  Then  recognition  dawned  slowly  in 
her  eyes. 

"  You !  "  she  said  at  last,  and  her  voice  seemed 
to  Allen  to  hold  in  it  all  that  he  most  longed  for  in,, 
the  world. 

"  Isobel!  am  I  mad  or  dreaming?  " 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  with  a  sob  — "  it's  a  dream.  It 
must  be  a  dream.  If  it  isn't,  I  can't  bear  it.  It's 
too  awful." 

The  sight  of  a  face  she  knew  had  added  to  the 
scene  the  last  touch  of  horror  for  her.  She  stood 
there,  the  tears  glistening  in  her  eyes,  passionately 
pitiful,  passionately  lovely.  The  pretty  fool  of  The 
Taller  pictures  had  ceased  to  be,  and  this  glorious 
woman  had  risen  like  the  phoenix  from  her  ashes. 
Denis  held  his  breath  for  fear  his  vision  would 
fade.  .  .  . 

Meanwhile,  the  two  Tommies  had  regained  the 


ISOBEL'S  "DREAM"  77 

shelter  of  their  dug-out  with  more  speed  than  grace. 

"  Quick !  "  said  Bill,  in  a  trembling  voice. 
"  'Urry  up,  or  she'll  give  us  away,  for  sure.  What 
a  mug  you  was  to  tell  'er  our  names." 

With  a  feverish  hand,  Alf  rubbed  the  But- 
ton. .  .  . 

Denis  Allen  started  and  rubbed  his  eyes. 

"  Isobel !  "  he  said  once  more.     But  she  was  gone. 

Denis  leaned  against  the  side  of  the  trench  for 
support.  His  heart  was  thumping  against  his  ribs, 
and  his  throat  had  a  strained,  parched  feeling.  He 
was  very  badly  scared. 

Strange  things  do  happen  to  men  at  the  front; 
•small  hallucinations,  induced  by  the  ceaseless  strain 
on  the  nerves  and  senses,  are  of  common  occurrence. 
The  eyes  play  queer  tricks  sometimes  on  sentry-go, 
so  that  a  tuft  of  grass  becomes  a  lurking  sniper. 
Allen  himself  could  remember  one  occasion  when  he 
had  actually  seen  German  infantry  advancing 
stealthily  to  the  attack,  and  had  given  the  alarm; 
only  to  be  severely  told  off  by  an  irate  Company 
Commander  for  having  interrupted  his  evening  meal 
for  nothing. 

But  this  was  different.  This  way  madness  lay. 
He  had  not  known  that  his  nerves  had  reached  this 
state ;  he  must  pull  himself  together,  get  back  at  once 
to  his  dug-out  and  sleep.  If  he  climbed  out  of  the 
trench  and  went  across  the  open,  he  'would  cut  off 
a  big  corner;  accordingly  he  did  so.  Just  at  this 


78  ALPS  BUTTON 

moment  a  German  battery  saw  fit  to  drop  a  long- 
range  shell  at  a  venture  into  the  British  rear  lines. 
It  exploded  only  a  few  yards  from  Denis.  He  felt 
a  tremendous  thump  in  the  chest,  and  rolled  over, 
coughing  and  fighting  for  breath.  Then  a  black 
curtain  seemed  to  shut  down  over  his  eyes,  and  for 
a  few  moments  he  lost  consciousness.  Then  he  was 
hazily  aware  of  voices,  and  a  hand  loosening  his 
collar,  fiddling  about  with  his  shirt  and  finally  ap- 
plying a  field-dressing  to  a  wound  high  up  in  his 
chest.  He  moved  convulsively. 

"  Lie  still,  sir,"  said  a  voice.  "  It's  Private 
Tggins,  sir.  Private  Grant's  gone  for  stretcher- 
bearers.  You'll  be  all  right,  sir  —  it's  only  a  little 
'ole.  Just  lie  still." 

By  the  time  the  stretcher  arrived  he  had  more  or 
less  come  to  himself.  He  could  see  once  more,  and 
he  was  conscious  only  of  two  things,  namely,  that  his 
feet  were  horribly,  cruelly  cold,  and  that  he  was 
done  with  the  front  for  a  time.  Slowly  and  gently 
he  was  carried  across  the  rough  ground  to  the  bat- 
talion aid-post,  where  the  Battalion  M.O.  received 
him. 

"  Hullo,  Sniggles !  "  said  Denis  weakly. 

"  Well,  young  man,"  answered  Sniggles,  en- 
thusiastically cutting  all  Denis's  expensive  clothing 
to  pieces  with  a  large  pair  of  shears.  "  Let's  see 
what  they've  done  to  you.  Ah!  " 

He  removed  the  bandage.  Denis  listened  for  his 
verdict,  in  dread  lest  his  wound  should  be  serious 


ISOBEL'S  "DREAM"  79 

enough  to  be  fatal,  or  not  serious  enough  to  give  him 
his  heart's  desire. 

"  Shall  I  be  all  right?  "  he  asked  at  last. 

"  Think  so,  old  man." 

"  Good.     Is  it  a  Blighty  one  all  right?  " 

"  Sniggles  "  smiled  at  the  eagerness  in  his  tone. 

"A  Blighty  one?  I  should  think  it  is.  A  long 
holiday  from  the  Army  for  you,  my  lad." 

Denis  gave  one  grin  of  pure  happiness,  and  then 
the  haziness  came  over  him  again.  He  lay  for  some 
time  waiting  for  the  ambulance.  Occasionally  a 
dim  form  bent  over  him;  once  he  heard  the  colonel's 
voice  speaking  his  name.  For  a  second  or  two  his 
brain  cleared,  and  he  understood  a  word  or  two. 

".  .  .  sorry  to  lose  him,  but  he's  earned  a 
rest.  .  .  ." 

Next,  he  felt  himself  lifted  and  placed,  still  on 
his  stretcher,  in  a  motor-ambulance.  Most  of  the 
officers  seemed  to  be  standing  about,  to  see  him  off. 
There  was  a  chorus  of  "  Good-by,  old  man  —  and 
good  luck!  "  He  gave  a  feeble  smile  in  return,  and 
then  his  journey  began. 


CHAPTER  VII 

EUSTACE   ORDERS   A   BATH 

ALL  next  day  Bill  Grant  was  conscious  that  Alf 
was  not  his  usual  self.  He  seemed  strangely 
preoccupied  and  absent-minded;  and  when  even  din- 
ner-time failed  to  arouse  him,  Bill  became  seriously 
alarmed. 

As  soon  as  the  midday  meal  was  done  the  two 
men  sought  their  private  retreat.  They  lit  their 
pipes  and  smoked  for  some  time  in  a  silence,  broken 
at  last  by  a  heavy  sigh  from  Alf. 

"  What's  up  with  yer?  "  demanded  Bill  suddenly. 
"  Is  it  yer  stummick?  "  . 

"  I'm  all  right,"  answered  Alf  in  a  voice  of  hope- 
less dejection. 

There  was  another  long  silence,  once  more  termi- 
nating in  a  sigh. 

"  Look  'ere,"  said  Bill,  getting  up  in  disgust,  "  if 
you  feel  as  bad  as  all  that,  for  'eving's  sake  'ave  a 
good  cry  and  get  it  over,  an'  let's  'ave  the  old  'ome 
'appy  once  again.  What  the  'ell's  up?  " 

Alf  did  not  answer  this  question,  except  by  asking 
another. 

"  Bill,"  he  asked  with  a  forced  lightness  of  tone 
which  quite  failed  to  conceal  the  earnestness  it  cov- 

80 


EUSTACE  ORDERS  A  BATH          81 

ered.  "  What  did  yer  think  of  Eustace's  taste  in 
females?  " 

Bill  turned  and  looked  at  him  with  a  suddenly  com- 
prehending eye.  Alf  wriggled  uneasily  under  his 
gaze. 

"So  that's  it,  is  it?"  commented  Bill.  "Poor 
old  Alf!  "  He  gave  a  long  whistle. 

"  What'd  you  think  of —  of  'er,  Bill?" 

"  Well,"  was  the  honest  reply,  "  that  kind  o'  fine 
lady  ain't  my  style  at  all.  I  like  a  girl  as  can  back- 
answer  yer  a  bit.  But  she  was  a  reg'lar  daisy  for 
looks." 

Alf  heaved  another  tremendous  sigh. 

"Gawd!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  can't  'elp  thinkin' 
'ow  awful  it'd  'ave  been  if  that  shell  as  'it  Mr.  Allen 
'ad  come  over  a  bit  sooner  an'  done  ' er  in !  " 

He  fell  silent,  lost  in  contemplation  of  this  terrible 
idea.  Bill  was  thinking  deeply.  He  fixed  a  far- 
away gaze  on  Alf,  reducing  that  warrior,  very  self- 
conscious  in  the  unaccustomed  role  of  love-sick  swain, 
to  the  last  pitch  of  embarrassment.  When  at  last 
Bill  came  back  to  earth  his  words  were  startling  in 
the  extreme. 

"  Well,"  he  said  casually.  "  If  that's  'ow  you 
feel,  why  don't  you  marry  the  girl?  " 

"What?  .  .  .  Me?  .  .  .  Marry  'oo?" 

"  Eustace's  female,  whatever  'er  name  is." 

"  You're  barmy !  Might  as  well  tell  me  to  marry 
a  royal  princess  straight  orf." 

"  Well,  an'  why  not,  if  you  want  to?  "     Bill  was 


82  ALFS  BUTTON 

quite  unmoved.  "  Eustace  fixed  it  up  for  Aladdin 
•- — why  not  for  Alf  'Iggins?  " 

"Yes,  but  —  Aladdin,  'e  was  a  prince  'isself." 

"  Not  to  start  with  'e  wasn't,  an'  if  you  married  a 
princess  you'd  be  a  prince,  too.  Prince  'Iggins  — 
it'd  look  fine  on  a  brass  plate.  Now  look  'ere,  Alf, 
my  lad,  yer  just  wastin'  yer  time.  You  don't  seem 
to  'ave  no  idea  what  a  lot  you  could  do  with  Eustace. 
If  /  'ad  a  pet  spook  I'd  use  'im  a  sight  better'n  what 
you  do.  Why  don't  you  stop  the  blinkin'  war  ?  Get 
Kaiser  Bill  over  'ere,  and  .  .  ." 

"  Once  an'  for  all,"  interposed  Alf  with  firmness, 
"  I  ain't  goin'  to  mix  meself  up  in  nothing  o'  that 
sort.  I  knows  enough  to  keep  clear  o'  what's  too 
'igh  for  me.  I'm  a  plain  man,  I  am.  Besides,  Eus- 
tace ain't  to  be  trusted.  'E'd  be  sure  to  make  a 
muck  of  it  an'  get  me  into  trouble  some'ow." 

Bill  abandoned  this  topic  for  the  time  being  with 
reluctance;  the  idea  of  kidnaping  the  Kaiser  was 
the  cherished  child  of  his  brain.  But  he  knew  that 
Alf  when  obstinate  was  quite  impervious  to  argu- 
ment; he  therefore  returned  to  the  original  question. 

"  Any'ow,"  he  said.  "  If  you  want  to  marry  that 
girl,  Eustace'll  manage  it  for  yer.  It  was  'is  job  in 
peace-time  — 'e'll  thank  yer  for  a  chance  to  get  back 
to  it.  As  I  says,  Aladdin  married  a  princess,  an'  'e 
wasn't  no  great  specimen  of  a  man  any  more'n  what 
you  are.  I  remember  'is  mother  was  a  washer- 
woman by  the  name  o'  Twankey,  in  the  pantomime." 

"  Really? "     asked    Alf    with    sudden    interest. 


EUSTACE  ORDERS  A  BATH  83 

"  Why.  my  good  ole  mother  takes  in  washin',  too." 

He  seemed  much  cheered  by  this  striking  similar- 
ity between  himself  and  hi&  prototype.  For  the  first 
time  he  seemed  to  realize  that  Bill's  suggestion  might 
be  something  more  than  idle  verbiage. 

"  S'posin'  you  was  me,  then,"  he  asked.  *  'Ow'd 
you  set  about  the  business?  I  ain't  got  no  idea  of 
this  'ere  game." 

"  Well,  I  ain't  exactly  thought  it  out  meself,  but 
the  first  thing  to  do's  to  get  back  to  Blighty." 

"  That  does  me  in  for  a  start,"  said  Alf  hope- 
lessly. 

"  Not  a  bit.  What  about  our  month's  re-engage- 
ment leave?  It's  five  years  next  month  since  you  an' 
me  joined  the  Terriers,  an'  the  Captain  says  Vs 
applied  for  it,  an*  we'll  get  it  in  time.  May  be  a 
month  or  two  late,  but  we'll  get  it  all  right.  Tell 
yer  what  I'll  do,  though.  There's  a  ole  lady  in 
Blighty  what  sends  me  books  an'  papers  an'  things. 
I'll  get  'er  to  send  me  the  book  about  Aladdin,  an' 
we'll  see  'ow  'e  worked  the  trick.  P'raps  we'll  pick 
up  a  'int  or  two  that  way.  But  you  trust  to  Eustace 
an'  me.  We'll  put  it  all  right  for  you,  as  soon  as  we 
get  our  leave." 

Accordingly  a  letter  to  the  old  lady  in  Blighty 
was  composed  and  dispatched  that  same  afternoon. 

The  glittering  prospect  before  him  filled  Alf  with 
as  much  apprehension  as  elation.  The  passion  in- 
spired in  him  by  Isobel  was  <a  desire  of  the  moth 
for  the  star  —  a  distant  worship  of  a  goddess  who 


84  ALF'S  BUTTON 

had  vouchsafed  him  one  brief  vision  of  her  beauty 
and  had  then  vanished  beyond  his  ken  forever. 
But  Bill's  practical  common  sense  had  changed  all 
that.  Alf  found  himself  called  upon  to  readjust 
his  mental  horizon,  and  to  gaze  upon  a  new  prospect 
in  which  his  goddess  appeared  suddenly  changed  to 
mortal  form  and  proportions. 

He  could  not  accustom  himself  all  at  once  to  the 
new  conditions.  He  felt  sure  that  there  must  be 
"  a  catch  "  in  the  idea  somewhere. 

"  Look  'ere,"  he  said,  after  profound  cogitation. 
"  D'you  mean  to  tell  me  as  anything  that  Eustace 
can  do'll  make  'er  walk  out  with  me?" 

"'Course  I  do,"  said  Bill  confidently.  "Look 
'ere,  now;  s'pose  you  go  to  'er  an'  say,  '  I'm  a  mil- 
lionaire, an'  I've  got  palaces  an'  jools,  an'  'orses, 
an' —  oh,  everything  I  want ' —  d'yer  think  any 
female's  goin'  to  refuse  all  that,  if  you  was  as  ugly 
as  sin?  Not  on  yer  life.  She'll  eat  out  of  yer 
'and,  you'll  see." 

But  Bill  Grant's  cynicism  failed  to  convince  Alf, 
who  shook  his  head  despondently.  Then,  with 
characteristic  philosophy,  since  none  of  these  strange 
and  wonderful  things  could  begin  to  happen  to  him 
until  his  month's  leave  (itself  only  a  happy  possibil- 
ity) came  through,  he  dismissed  the  whole  affair 
from  his  mind  for  the  time  being. 

The  battalion  finished  its  turn  in  the  trenches  with- 
out further  casualties,  and  once  more  prepared  to 
move  back  to  rest  billets.  The  future  was  uncer- 


EUSTACE  ORDERS  A  BATH  85 

tain;  but  it  did  not  seem  likely  that  this  respite  would 
be  of  long  duration.  The  battle  of  Arras  had  be- 
gun, and  all  along  the  line  there  was  work  to  be 
done.  At  any  moment  the  division  might  be  called 
upon  to  trek  to  the  Arras  district,  or  to  fill  some 
unexpected  gap  elsewhere;  so  Colonel  Enderby,  on 
the  day  before  the  5th  Battalion  marched  out,  sent 
a  certain  Sergeant  Oliver  before  them  with  orders 
to  make  arrangements  whereby  his  battalion  on  leav- 
ing the  line  might  lose  no  time  in  making  itself  clean 
and  tidy  once  more.  To  put  it  more  simply,  he  told 
him  to  rig  up  some  baths. 

In  "  C  "  Company  Lieutenant  Allen's  disappear- 
ance had  caused  few  actual  changes,  although  Cap- 
tain Richards  missed  his  cheery  help  and  sound  judg- 
ment at  every  turn.  No  officer  had  appeared  from 
England  as  yet  to  fill  his  place,  and  No.  9  Platoon 
was  now  under  the  sole  charge  of  Sergeant  Lees, 
who  ruled  it  with  a  rod  of  iron. 

On  the  morning  of  the  move  the  autocrat  was  in 
high  good  humor. 

"  Pack  yer  traps  up,  boys,"  he  said.  "  It's 
good-by  to  the  line  to-day.  Please  'Eaven,  you'll 
all  get  a  'ot  bath  to-morrow." 

"  'Ear  that,  Bill?  "  asked  Alf  in  delight.  "  I'm 
just  about  fed  up  with  the  line.  Think  o'  gettin' 
into  a  billet  again!  " 

"  Umph,"  said  Bill.  "  We  won't  be  any  better 
orf  in  a  billet  than  in  our  dug-out,  anyway.  On'y 
thing  /  wanter  get  back  for  is  to  'ave  something  to 


86  ALPS  BUTTON 

drink,  since  you're  so  mean  with  Eustace.  If  /  'ad 
a  pet  spook  I  wouldn't  be  that  way,  I  can  tell  yer." 

"  I  can't  'elp  it,"  s>aid  Alf,  resenting  the  imputation 
of  meanness,  but  adamantine  in  his  determination 
not  to  risk  Eustace's  displeasure  again. 

"  Huh!  "  said  Bill.  There  was  a  world  of  mean- 
ing in  this  monosyllable,  and  none  of  it  was  compli- 
mentary to  Alf. 

The  5th  Battalion  was  far  enough  back  from  the 
front  line  to  be  safely  relieved  by  daylight.  In  con- 
sequence, the  relieving  battalion  arrived  up  to  time, 
and  Alf  and  Bill  were  well  on  their  way  by  eleven 
o'clock.  So  long  as  it  was  in  the  shelled  area,  the 
battalion  marched  by  platoons,  with  a  space  of  about 
a  hundred  yards  between  each  body  and  the  next. 
Once  the  danger  limit  was  passed,  however,  it  was 
closed  up  again  for  economy  of  road  space. 

At  about  four-thirty  in  the  afternoon,  worn  and 
weary,  the  men  approached  a  pleasant  village  and 
sighed  contentedly  to  see  a  little  group  of  four  khaki 
figures  awaiting  them.  These  were  the  company 
quartermaster-sergeants,  whose  job  is  to  look  after 
the  feeding  of  their  companies  at  all  times  and  their 
housing  when  out  of  the  line.  "  Quarters  "  is  by 
training  an  autocrat  and  by  hereditary  reputation  a 
scoundrel,  but  when  he  is  seen  waiting  to  show  his 
men  into  its  happy  but  temporary  homes  at  the  end 
of  a  long  march,  he  is  the  most  popular  man  in  the 
company. 

As  Captain  Richards  rode  in  at  the  head  of  his 


EUSTACE  ORDERS  A  BATH          87 

cohort,  C.Q.M.S.  Piper  came  up  and  explained  to 
him  what  splendid  billets  he  had  secured,  what 
enormous  trouble  he  had  had  to  secure  any  billets 
at  all,  and  how  well  his  own  compared  with  those  of 
the  other  companies.  Along  the  road,  the  other 
C.Q.M.S.'s  might  have  been  seen,  each  giving  his 
own  company  commander  precisely  similar  informa- 
tion. Each  platoon  was  then  settled  into  its  par- 
ticular mud  barn  by  its  own  officer,  while  little  Shaw, 
as  subaltern  of  the  day  (otherwise  known  as  Orderly 
Dog),  bustled  round  to  the  traveling  cookers  to 
ascertain  from  the  sergeant  cook  how  soon  a  hot 
meal  would  be  forthcoming. 

When  this  repast  was  over  Alf  and  Bill  found 
themselves  told  off  as  units  in  a  blanket-carrying 
party,  after  which  they  turned  in  and  slept  the  sleep 
of  the  thoroughly  unjust  for  about  twelve  hours. 

Next  morning,  after  breakfast,  Captain  Richards 
paraded  his  company,  and  as  usual  after  coming  out 
of  the  line,  lectured  them  on  their  appearance. 

"  However,"  he  concluded,  "  you'll  have  no  ex- 
cuse if  you  turn  up  to-morrow  dirty.  Sergeant 
Oliver  has  got  some  baths  going  in  the  back  yard  of 
the  '  Rayon  d'Or  '  in  Aberfeldy  Street;  and  you'll  go 
down  there  by  sections,  beginning  at  ten  o'clock. 
And  I'll  hold  a  dam'  strict  inspection  at  half-past 
three  —  so  look  out !  " 

In  due  course,  Corporal  Greenstock  paraded  his 
section,  containing  Privates  Higgins  and  Grant,  and 
marched  it  down  Dunoon  Street,  through  Piccadilly 


88  ALPS  BUTTON 

Circus  into  Aberfeldy  Street.  There  in  a  cloud  of 
steam  they  found  Sergeant  Oliver,  whose  military 
career  at  the  front  was  divided  between  improvising 
baths  for  the  battalion  when  it  came  out  of  the  line, 
and  supplying  facilities  for  the  drying  of  socks  when 
in  it.  The  bath  on  this  occasion  was  an  enormous 
wooden  tub,  capable  of  holding  four  men  at  a  time. 
The  sergeant  and  his  satellites  were  busy  keeping  a 
veritable  furnace  going  beneath  a  boiler  which  sev- 
eral gloomy  defaulters  constantly  refilled  from  a  well 
nearby.  One  clean  'fill  of  water  was  the  allowance 
for  each  section,  and  by  the  time  the  water  was 
emptied  out  it  had  become  only  less  thick  than  the 
mud  of  the  trenches  they  had  just  left. 

The  whole  arrangement  'reflected  the  greatest 
credit  on  Sergeant  Oliver,  considering  that  when  he 
had  arrived  at  the  "  Rayon  d'Or  "  neither  tub  nor 
boiler  had  been  there.  Whence  and  by  whose  per- 
mission they  had  been  procured  were  questions  which 
the  colonel  had  carefully  refrained  from  asking. 
But  the  sybaritic  soul  of  Bill  Grant  clamored  for 
something  better  still.  He  drew  Alf  on  one  side 
and  whispered.  Alf  shook  his  head.  Bill  became 
more  earnest;  Higgins  hesitated  —  and  was  lost. 
Both  men  slipped  quietly  out  of  the  bath-house  while 
Corporal  Greenstock,  taking  the  best  of  the  water 
by  right  of  seniority,  was  performing  his  ablutions. 

It  was  a  very  quiet  village,  sparsely  inhabited. 
Alf  and  Bill  soon  found  a  large  farmyard  in  which, 
remote  from  public  view,  stood  a  dilapidated  barn. 


EUSTACE  ORDERS  A  BATH  89 

"  This'll  do  fine!  "  said  Bill.  "  There's  nobody 
living  in  the  'ouse  —  we'll  be  as  safe  as  the  Pay 
Corps  'ere." 

"I  don't  know,"  objected  Alf.  "  Wnat  about 
that  'aystack  in  the  loft?  That  must  belong  to  some 
one." 

"  Well,  '-ooever  it  belongs  to,  they  don't  live  'ere, 
an'  we  can  keep  a  look-out  in  case  any  one  comes. 
Go  on,  ring  up  ole  Eustace.  You  won't  find  a  better 
place." 

Alf  rubbed  his  Button. 

"See  that  barn,  Eustace?"  he  asked,  before  the 
djinn  had  time  to  begin  his  usual  formula.  '  Well, 
put  us  a  real  nice  bath  inside  it." 

"  O  Master,  behold,  it  is  done!  " 

Eustace  vanished,  looking  pleased.  "  Real  nice 
baths  "  were  entirely  in  accordance  with  the  Aladdin 
tradition. 

The  two  Tommies  turned  towards  the  barn,  and 
stood  lost  in  amazement.  The  building  was  out- 
wardly as  dilapidated  as  before,  but  inside  it  was  all 
light  and  color  and  perfumed  magnificence.  Marble 
pillars  veiled  by  silken  hangings  stood  just  inside  the 
broken  mud  walls,  and  through  the  hangings  could 
be  seen  just  so  much  as  to  hint  at  further  splendors 
beyond. 

"  Lumme!  "  said  Alf,  as  soon  as  he  could  speak. 
"Why  is  'e  always  so  blinkin'  'olesale?  'E'll  be 
givin'  the  'ole  show  away,  one  o'  these  days.  What's 
to  be  done  now,  Bill?  'Ave  'im  come  back  again  an' 


90  ALPS  BUTTON 

make  'im  clear  away  the  'ole  caboodle,  I  s'pose?" 

"  I  s'pose  so,"  said  Bill  reluctantly.  "  I  s'pose 
so.  Seems  a  pity,  but  .  .  .  'ullo !  " 

He  broke  off. 

The  silken  hangings  had  been  suddenly  drawn 
back  by  two  enormous  negroes,  clad  in  sumptuous 
and  glittering  uniforms;  a  spacious  hall  was  thus 
revealed,  in  which  a  crowd  of  beautiful  female  slaves 
in  marvelous  though  rather  scanty  oriental  draperies 
was  waiting. 

"Goo'  Lord!  The  'Ippodrome  Chorus!"  said 
Grant  in  an  awed  voice,  his  protests  forgotten.  The 
most  beautiful  of  the  slaves  came  forward,  and 
paused  just  inside  the  pillared  entrance,  a  smile  of 
invitation  upon  her  lips. 

"  'Ere,"  said  Bill.  "  This  is  goin'  to  be  a  bit  of 
all  right.  We  mustn't  miss  this.  One  of  us'll  'ave 
to  keep  guard  while  the  other  'as  'is  bath.  Toss  for 
'oo  goes  first,  see?  —  You  call!  " 

"  'Eads,"  said  Alf. 

"  Tails  it  is,"  replied  Bill  with  great  satisfaction. 
"  I'm  goin'  to  bath  first.  'Arf  an  hour  each,  see?  " 

He  entered  the  building,  and  the  slaves  clustered 
about  him.  Then  the  negroes  drew  the  curtains, 
and  Alf  saw  him  no  more. 

Bill,  highly  gratified  by  his  reception,  was  led 
through  the  entrance  hall  into  another  lofty  chamber, 
wonderfully  built  of  different-colored  marbles. 
From  one  end  of  this  chamber  came  the  pleasant 
sound  of  running  water,  where  a  little  fountain 


EUSTACE  ORDERS  A  BATH          91 

flowed  into  a  bath  sunk  into  the  floor,  and  entered 
by  a  flight  of  marble  steps.  By  some  invisible  de- 
vice sufficient  water  was  allowed  to  flow  out  to  keep 
the  bath  always  full  to  a  uniform  depth.  From  it 
arose  a  faint  cloud  of  steam,  fragrant  and  scented. 

The  leader  of  the  slaves  led  Bill  to  a  divan  and 
bowed  profoundly. 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear,"  said  Bill.  "  This'll  do 
me  a  treat.  Now,  if  you'll  just  take  yer  friends 
away  and  wait  outside,  I'll  be  with  yer  in  'arf  a 
tick." 

But  the  lady  seemed  neither  to  understand  him 
nor  to  have  any  intention  of  going.  She  signed  to 
two  of  her  following,  who  came  forward  and  un- 
laced Grant's  boots.  She  herself  began  daintily  to 
unbutton  his  tunic. 

This  was  too  much  for  the  scandalized  Bill. 

"  'Ere,"  he  said,  leaping  suddenly  to  his  feet. 
"  This  'as  gone  far  enough.  None  of  yer  disre- 
spectable  foreign  ways  for  me !  Why,  I've  never 
been  washed  by  a  female  since  my  old  mother  used 
to  give  me  a  bath  when  I  was  a  nipper !  'Ere,  'op 
it  —  skedaddle  !  " 

Bill's  remarks  were  not  understood,  but  his  ges- 
ture of  dismissal  was  unmistakable.  The  slaves 
made  each  a  low  obeisance  and  retired;  the  face  of 
the  leader  wore  so  obvious  an  air  of  pained  as- 
tonishment that  Bill  felt  he  owed  her  some  kind  of 
reparation. 

"  It's  all  right,  Alice,"  he  called.     "  Wait  out- 


92  ALF'S  BUTTON 

side  for  me,  an'  I'll  let  yer  brush  me  'air  arter- 
wards." 

Left  alone,  Bill  undressed;  he  examined  with  pro- 
found suspicion  the  silver  bowls  of  rich  unguents 
which  stood  at  one  end  of  the  bath;  and  then,  ex- 
tracting from  his  tunic-pocket  a  weary-looking  cake 
of  soap,  he  plunged  into  the  water  and  prepared  to 
give  himself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  most  luxuri- 
ous moment  that  life  had  yet  afforded  him. 

Meanwhile  Alf,  keeping  watch  outside,  had  be- 
gun to  find  time  hang  heavy  on  his  hands.  The 
farmyard  was  utterly  deserted  —  only  in  the  build- 
ing into  which  he  had  seen  Bill  disappear  was  there 
any  sign  of  life.  He  lounged  into  the  road,  cursing 
the  fate  which  had  given  Bill  the  first  choice,  and 
wondering  whether  after  all  the  chance  of  discovery 
was  great  enough  to  make  his  lonely  vigil  worth 
while.  He  debated  this  point  for  some  time,  and 
had  almost  made  up  his  mind  to  chance  it  and  join 
Bill  forthwith,  when  he  heard  his  name  called. 

"'Ere!     Tggins!" 

He  looked  up  the  road  apprehensively.  Two 
men  of  his  own  section  had  turned  a  corner  and 
were  bearing  down  upon  him.  Panic-stricken,  he 
dashed  into  the  farmyard  and  shouted  for  Bill. 
There  was  no  response.  Feverishly  he  felt  for  his 
Button  and  rubbed  it. 

"  Eustace,"  he  said  in  a  trembling  voice,  "  cart 
all  that  away  —  quick !  An'  then  'op  it  yerself. 
Look  slippy!  " 


EUSTACE  ORDERS  A  BATH  93 

Bill  Grant  had  just  felt  the  warm,  soft  water  close 
over  his  body  —  had  just  begun  to  realize  a  delicious 
sense  of  lightness  and  rest  which  pervaded  his  whole 
frame  —  when  everything  about  him  seemed  to  fade 
into  smoke  and  disappear.  The  marble  bath,  the 
stately  hall,  the  water,  the  silken  hangings,  all  van- 
ished in  a  flash,  and  he  found  himself,  naked  and 
cold,  lying  on  the  cobbled  floor  of  an  exceedingly 
well-ventilated  French  barn.  Worst  of  all,  his 
clothes  had  disappeared  with  the  rest. 

Outside  in  the  yard  he  could  see  Alf  signing  to 
him  in  the  greatest  agitation;  he  made  a  dash  for  the 
haystack  in  the  loft,  and  had  just  reached  its  sanc- 
tuary when  he  heard  voices  below  him.  Peeping 
through  a  crack  in  the  loft  floor  he  could  see  Den- 
ham  and  Walls,  the  two  privates  whose  untimely  ap- 
pearance had  upset  Alf  so  completely. 

"  Corp'ril  sent  us  for  yer,  Alf,"  explained  Walls. 
"  Says  we  got  to  bring  yer  back  under  escort  for 
bilkin'  yer  bath." 

"  He  also  wished  us  to  secure  Grant,"  added 
Private  Denham,  a  youth  who  was  cultivating  a  re- 
fined accent  with  a  view  to  subsequent  application 
for  a  commission. 

"  Well,  'e  ain't  'ere,  me  lord,"  answered  Alf 
shortly.  u  I'll  come  right  away.  I  was  just  comin', 
any'ow." 

Unaware  of  the  tragic  loss  of  Bill's  clothes,  Alf 
was  only  anxious  to  get  his  captors  away  from  the 
spot  and  to  give  his  pal  a  chance  of  appearing  clothed 


94  ALPS  BUTTON 

again  and  in  his  right  mind  as  soon  as  might  be. 

Bill  heard  their  voices  die  away,  and  despairingly 
reviewed  his  position.  The  hay,  with  which  he  was 
obliged  to  cover  himself  for  warmth,  tickled  his 
bare  body  cruelly.  He  was  too  far  from  his  billet 
to  think  of  trying  to  return  there  in  his  present  con- 
dition, even  if  modesty  had  allowed.  His  clothes 
were  irretrievably  lost  until  Alf  should  come  back 
that  way,  bringing  the  Button.  Until  Higgins  re- 
alized that  something  was  wrong  and  came  in  search 
of  him,  Bill  must  remain  an  outcast,  naked  and 
ashamed.  He  made  himself  a  nest  in  the  softest 
part  of  the  hay  and  settled  himself  down  to  wait. 

After  a  time  he  dozed  off;  he  was  recalled  to 
himself  by  the  sound  of  a  footstep  below.  It  paused 
at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder  leading  to  the  loft. 

"  Alf!  "  said  Bill  in  a  stage  whisper. 

"  Qui  va  la?  "  answered  a  strange  voice  —  an  old, 
quavery  voice,  apparently  female.  Bill  curled  him- 
self into  his  nest  of  hay  and  lay  perfectly  still.  The 
owner  of  the  voice,  having  listened  for  some  time, 
apparently  decided  that  Bill's  greeting  had  been  a 
delusion  of  the  senses  and  began  painfully  and 
wheezily  to  climb  the  ladder.  Through  a  layer  of 
hay,  Bill's  eye  commanded  the  loft  door.  His 
visitor  was  an  elderly  Frenchwoman  with  a  pitch- 
fork, evidently  the  owner  of  the  hay. 

She  began  to  fork  the  hay  down  with  surprising 
vigor  for  one  so  frail.  Bill  lay  close  as  a  maggot 
in  a  nut;  but  unfortunately,  at  her  sixth  prod,  the 


EUSTACE  ORDERS  A  BATH  95 

old  lady  dug  her  weapon  into  one  of  the  tenderest 
parts  of  his  undraped  anatomy,  and  Bill  sprang  up 
with  an  eldritch  scream.  Naked  as  he  was,  and 
festooned  and  bristling  with  hay,  he  was  a  startling 
apparition.  The  old  Frenchwoman  gave  forth  a 
yell  as  if  all  the  devils  in  hell  were  after  her,  and 
clambered  down  the  ladder  with  the  speed  of  a 
cat.  By  some  miracle  she  preserved  her  footing  till 
she  was  halfway  down  the  ladder;  but  then  her  feet 
slipped  and  she  shot  ignominiously  on  to  her  own 
hay.  Bill  thought  for  a  moment  that  she  had  hurt 
herself;  but  a  second  later  he  heard  her  wooden 
shoes  on  the  cobbles  outside  as  she  took  to  her  heels 
and  ran  for  her  life. 

Bill,  shivering,  returned  gloomily  to  his  hay.  The 
fat  was  in  the  fire  now,  without  a  doubt.  Even  if 
she  did  not  inform  the  colonel,  the  old  lady  was 
sure  to  alarm  the  villagers;  and  what  they  might  do 
to  him  Bill  hardly  dared  imagine.  He  lay  shivering 
with  cold  and  fright.  After  a  time  he  seemed  to 
hear  stealthy  footsteps.  He  determined  that  his 
only  chance  was  to  give  himself  up  and  throw  him- 
self on  the  mercy  of  his  captors.  He  stood  up,  and 
shook  himself  free  of  the  hay. 

A  voice  below  spoke  —  Alf's  voice. 

"Bill!"  it  said. 

Half  an  hour  later  Bill  stood  before  Sergeant 
Lees. 

"  Ho,"    said    that    autocrat.     "  'Ere    you    are. 


96  ALPS  BUTTON 

Bilked  yer  bath,  you  'ave,  so  I  'ear,  an'  missed  the 
Captain's  inspection;  an'  the  British  soldier's  first 
dooty  is  to  be  clean." 

"  I  got  a  better  bath  in  the  village,  sergeant. 
Didn't  think  you'd  mind,"  said  Bill  desperately. 

"  Ho,  did  yer?  Don't  seem  to  'ave  done  yer 
much  good.  'Ave  yer  seen  yerself  ?  " 

The  sergeant  handed  him  a  shaving-mirror. 
Grant  studied  his  features  in  silence.  His  adven- 
tures in  the  hay  had  completely  destroyed  the  effects 
of  his  bath.  His  face  was  streaked  and  mottled 
with  black  dust  till  he  looked  like  a  dissipated  nig- 
ger. 

"  No,  my  lad,"  said  the  sergeant  grimly.  '  That 
yarn's  like  you  —  it  don't  wash.  You'll  report  to 
Sergeant  Oliver  to-morrer  an'  act  as  bath-orderly 
for  the  rest  o'  the  week." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BLIGHTY    FOR   TWO 

GRANT'S  appointment  to  the  menial  position  of 
bath-orderly  plunged  him  into  a  state  of  sav- 
age gloom.  His  duties  were  arduous  and  his  hours 
long;  and  as  he  spent  even  his  free  time  in  morose 
silence,  he  soon  made  Alf  as  miserable  as  himself. 
Gradually  the  week  wore  away  until  at  last  the  sen- 
tence was  served,  and  Bill  was  once  more  a  free 
man. 

But  his  punishment  seemed  to  have  soured  his 
whole  outlook  on  life;  even  now  he  continued  sul- 
lenly aloof  till  at  last  even  the  easy-going  Alf  felt 
himself  constrained  to  remonstrate. 

"  Look  'ere,  Bill,"  he  said.     "  What's  up?  " 

"Fed  up!"  growled  Bill. 

"  Fed  up?  Well,  o'  course  you're  fed  up. 
Ain't  we  all  fed  up?  But  that  ain't  no  reason  for 
goin'  on  like  this.  You  might  be  a  lot  worse  off. 
'Ere  we  are,  back  from  the  line  an'  in  billets  in  a 
nice  little  village  with  shops  an'  estaminets  an'  ... 
an'  baths." 

"  If  you  wants  one  in  the  'ear-'ole,"  said  Bill,  ris- 
ing wrathfully,  "  you've  on'y  got  to  say  '  bath  '  to 
me  again.  An'  look  'ere,  I  never  'ad  no  use  for 
sermons  any'ow.  Get  on  to  the  'ymn." 

Q7 


98  ALPS  BUTTON 

Alf  regarded  him  helplessly.  Bill  simply  stared 
straight  before  him  with  a  queer  glint  in  his  eyes. 

"  Look  'ere,"  said  Higgins  at  last,  deciding  to 
stretch  a  point  for  the  sake  of  a  quiet  life.  "  Shall 
I  get  Eustace  to  fetch  yer  a  pint?  " 

"  No." 

"  It'd  do  yer  good." 

"  No,  I  tell  yer.  Keep  yer  blinkin'  Eustace  an' 
yer  blinkin'  beer,  an'  f'r  'Eaven's  sake  leave  me 
alone.  I'm  fed  up  with  the  'ole  boilin'  of  yer  — 
sick  of  it.  Sick  o'  the  War,  an'  this  ruddy  country, 
an'  everything.  I  wants  to  get  'ome  to  Blighty,  an', 
oh  Gawd!  to  think  I'll  'ave  to  wait  another  two 
months." 

Alf  was  silent  and  sympathetic;  he  could  remem- 
ber times  when  he  had  been  helpless  in  the  grip  of 
just  such  a  desperate  angry  longing  to  escape  from 
France  and  all  that  it  stood  for.  An  idea  struck 
him. 

"  Couldn't  Eustace  ...    ?  "  he  began. 

"  No.  D'you  think  I  'aven't  sense  enough  to 
think  o'  that  meself?  This  is  one  o'  them  times 
when  Eustace  ain't  no  blinkin'  use  at  all  —  unless 
you've  got  enough  guts  to  send  'im  over  to  get  ole 
Kaiser  Bill  'ere,  an  .  .  ." 

"  Well,  I  won't,"  said  Alf  obstinately.  "  I  told 
you  before.  An'  I  don't  see  why  Eustace  can't  take 
you  over  to  Blighty  all  right.  'E  brought  that 
young  lady  over  'ere." 

"  Because,"  said  Bill,  with  the  air  of  one  explain- 


BLIGHTY  FOR  TWO  99 

ing  truisms  to  a  wrong-headed  child,  "  if  we  asks 
Eustace  to  take  us  'ome,  what  'appens?  We're  de- 
serters. Sooner  or  later  we'd  get  found  out  an' 
shot.  'Tain't  worth  it.  I  should  'ave  thought  even 
you  could  'ave  understood  that." 

With  this  Parthian  shot  he  stalked  heavily  away, 
leaving  Alf  disconsolate.  But  as  soon  as  he  was 
alone  he  began  to  ponder  Alf  s  scorned  suggestion. 
Was  there  not  some  way  in  which  Eustace  could  be 
employed  to  take  Bill  and  Alf  home  for  a  space 
without  subjecting  them  to  the  risk  of  subsequent 
execution?  He  turned  the  question  over  in  his  rest- 
less mind,  but  in  vain;  and  as  a  result  his  temper  at 
bed-time  was  even  less  equable  than  before.  Alf 
was  glad  to  roll  himself  up  in  his  blanket  and  go  to 
sleep. 

But  Bill  could  not  sleep.  Long  after  "  lights 
out,"  he  lay  awake,  thinking  and  brooding  over  his 
problem;  and  his  longing  for  Blighty  grew  sharper 
till  it  was  almost  more  than  he  could  bear.  But  he 
knew  that  until  he  could  find  some  way  of  circumvent- 
ing his  difficulties  he  must  continue,  like  the  cat  in 
the  adage,  to  let  "  I  dare  not "  wait  upon  "  I 
would." 

At  last,  just  as  daylight  began  to  appear,  a  new 
idea  struck  him.  It  was  a  scheme  of  masterly  sim- 
plicity in  which  his  tired  brain  could  detect  no  flaw. 
He  leant  over  and  shook  the  dimly  visible  form  of 
Alf,  who  woke  in  astonishment  and  was  about  to 
give  tongue  when  Bill's  huge  hand  was  clapped  over 


ioo  ALFS  BUTTON 

his  mouth,  and  Bill's  voice  spoke  fiercely  in  his  ear. 

"Quiet,  you  fool!" 

'  Wasermarrer?  "  enquired  Alf  thickly,  as  soon 
as  the  hand  was  removed. 

"  I  got  it!  "  whispered  Bill  triumphantly. 

"Got  what?" 

"  I  knows  'ow  we  can  work  it." 

There  was  a  pause,  as  Alf  allowed  this  to  sink  in. 
"  Work  what?  "  he  asked  at  last. 

'  Wake  up,  you  fat'ed,  an'  listen.     It's  a  transfer 
we  want." 

"A  what?" 

"  A  transfer!  " 

"Do  we?" 

Bill's  overtried  nerves  snapped  suddenly. 

"  If  it  wasn't  for  the  row  it'd  make.  I'd  dot  yer 
one,"  he  hissed  fiercely.  "  'Ere,  put  yer  things  on 
quiet  an'  slip  outside,  an'  I'll  tell  yer  there." 

A  few  moments  later,  in  the  dim  first  light  of 
dawn,  Bill  unfolded  his  scheme. 

"  If  we  tells  Eustace  to  transfer  us  to  the  Reserve 
Battalion  'ome  in  Blighty,  that  ain't  desertion,  be- 
cause we'd  still  be  soldierin',  see.  An'  it's  about 
time  you  and  me  'ad  a  little  go  o'  soldierin'  at  'ome, 
for  a  change  like.  Oh,  it's  a  real  brainy  notion, 
Alf.  Can't  think  why  I  never  thought  of  it  be- 
fore." 

Alf,  still  half-asleep,  had  only  the  vaguest  con- 
ception of  the  meaning  of  the  magic  word  "  trans- 
fer "  and  still  less  of  the  formalities  attaching 


BLIGHTY  FOR  TWO  101 

thereto;  but  such  was  his  trust  in  the  acumen  and 
the  military  knowledge  of  his  mate  that  he  accepted 
the  statement  without  reserve.  Acting  under  Bill's 
instructions  he  rubbed  his  Button.  Instantly  Eus- 
tace appeared  with  his  usual  formula. 

"  We  want  to  be  transferred,"  said  Alf.  "  To 
the  Reserve  Battalion  in  Blighty —  at  once,  please." 

"  Lord!  "  answered  the  djinn,  "  I  hear  and  obey." 

He  advanced  on  the  two  privates  who,  expecting 
to  feel  themselves  borne  with  appalling  swiftness 
through  the  air,  closed  their  eyes  apprehensively; 
but  nothing  seemed  to  happen,  and  they  opened  them 
again. 

"  Lumme !  "  said  Alf  in  astonishment.  "  Good 
ole  Eustace !  " 

The  scene  before  them  had  changed  with  the  sud- 
denness of  a  cinematograph  film.  The  dawn  was 
still  just  breaking,  but  instead  of  the  cheerless  plains 
of  France  they  saw  the  wooded  hills  and  trim  hedges 
of  an  English  landscape.  They  were  standing  on 
a  country  road  beside  a  camp  of  wooden  huts.  Not 
far  away  the  spire  of  a  church  and  the  chimneys  of 
a  few  houses  rising  above  the  drifting  morning  mist 
showed  where  a  village  stood;  and  as  they  tried  to 
gather  their  wits  together  they  heard  a  sound  to 
which  their  ears  had  long  been  strangers  —  the  dis- 
tant rumble  of  an  express  train. 

"Good  ole  Eustace  —  an'  good  ole  Blighty!" 
said  Bill  softly.  "  Come  on,  Alf.  There's  a  sentry 
at  the  gate.  We'll  report  to  'im." 


102  ALF'S  BUTTON 

The  sentry  at  once  handed  them  over  to  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard,  who  produced  a  piece  of 
paper  and  a  stubby  pencil. 

"  Nice  time  o'  day  to  come  in,  I  don't  think,"  he 
observed  severely.  "  Overstayed  yer  week-end 
leave,  I  s'pose.  Where's  your  passes?  " 

"  We  'aven't  got  no  passes,  sergeant. 
We've  .  .  ." 

"  Names,  please,"  interrupted  the  catechist. 
"  1287  'Iggins  A.  an'  2312  Grant  W.  Which  com- 
p'ny?" 

"  '  C  '  Comp'ny,  5th  M.F.,  B.E.F." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  sergeant  with  heavy  sarcasm. 

'  You  can  say  yer  alphabet  arterwards.     An'  I  don't 

want  yer  past  'istory,  neither.     This  ain't  the  B.E.F. 

an'  I  want  to  know  which  comp'ny  you  belong  to 

'ere." 

"  We  dunno,  sergeant.  We  been  transferred 
from  the  B.E.F.  an'  we're  just  reportin'." 

"  What,  at  this  time  o'  day,  an'  without  any  kit? 
All  right,  you  needn't  trouble  to  tell  me  any  more. 
You  tell  it  all  to  the  C.O.  when  'e  sees  you.  'E'll 
'arf  skin  yer,  I  expect,  for  rollin'  in  at  this  time, 
because  the  last  train  for  'ere  gets  in  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening." 

Alf  and  Bill  sat  in  the  guard-room,  their  first  ela- 
tion rather  dashed.  Once  more  things  were  turning 
out  unexpectedly  difficult.  They  were  indeed  back 
in  Blighty,  but  were  to  be  half-skinned  as  a  result. 
If  on  top  of  this  Eustace  managed  to  make  any  mis- 


BLIGHTY  FOR  TWO  103 

take  in  the  transfer,  they  might  reasonably  expect 
to  be  completely  flayed  by  the  colonel,  who  had  the 
reputation  (which  had  reached  the  brigade  in 
France  by  means  of  the  drafts  he  sent  out  to  it)  of 
being  a  fire-eater.  Bill  began  to  regret  bitterly  his 
impulsiveness  in  leaving  the  technical  details  of  his 
scheme  to  Eustace;  but  he  realized  that  it  was  now 
too  late  to  do  anything.  He  and  Alf  would  be  kept 
under  strict  surveillance  until  the  time  of  their  in- 
terview with  the  C.O.,  and  there  would  be  no  pos- 
sible chance  of  summoning  Eustace  and  ascertaining 
just  what  he  had  done. 

They  decided  to  do  nothing,  and  to  hope  for  the 
best.  Even  a  guard-room  in  Blighty  seemed  to  them 
at  that  moment  preferable  to  their  billet  in  France. 

Soon  after  breakfast  the.  hour  for  the  inquisition 
arrived  and  the  two  friends  found  themselves  side 
by  side  "  on  the  mat  "  before  the  great  man,  who 
was  physically  a  very  little  man.  Colonel  Watts 
was  a  "  dug-out."  Some  time  before  the  war  broke 
out  he  had  retired  from  a  very  long  and  incredibly 
undistinguished  military  career  with  the  rank  of 
major,  and  had  devoted  himself  to  bullying  his  meek 
wife  and  generally  making  her  life  a  misery.  When 
the  war  began  the  gallant  major,  much  to  Mrs. 
Watts'  relief,  applied  for  and  obtained  command 
of  a  New  Army  battalion.  Unfortunately,  how- 
ever, he  managed  to  quarrel  so  violently  with  all  his 
immediate  superiors  and  most  of  his  colleagues  that 
the  divisional  general  refused  to  take  him  to  the 


104  ALPS  BUTTON 

front.  Shortly  before  the  division  sailed  for 
France  the  little  man  returned  raging  to  Tunbridge 
Wells,  discharged  all  his  wife's  servants,  poisoned 
her  dog,  and  proceeded  to  vent  all  his  accumulated 
spleen  on  the  poor  lady  herself.  Eventually,  only 
just  in  time  to  save  Mrs.  Watts'  sanity,  he  was  of- 
fered the  command  of  the  Territorial  reserve  bat- 
talion of  the  Middlesex  Fusiliers,  a  post  which  he 
had  held  ever  since. 

He  sat  behind  a  very  large  table,  with  Captain 
Sandeman,  his  adjutant,  standing  beside  him.  Alf 
and  Bill  were  marched  in  by  the  regimental  sergeant- 
major,  an  unctuous  person  very  different  from  the 
martinet  who  controlled  the  5th  Battalion  at  the 
front. 

"  Private  Higgins,  sir,  and  Private  Grant,"  he  an- 
nounced—  as  who  should  say,  "Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Platt-Harcourt,  my  lady!  " 

"  Higgins !  "  repeated  the  Colonel,  gazing  fero- 
ciously at  Alf  from  under  his  beetling  eyebrows. 
"Higgins!  Higgins!!" 

"Yessir!"  said  Alf,  thinking  that  confirmation 
was  being  required. 

"Be  quiet!"  roared  Colonel  Watts,  with  such 
suddenness  that  Alf  took  a  step  backwards  in  alarm. 
"And  stand  still!" 

"  Stand  still,  man,  and  only  speak  when  you  are 
spoken  to,"  said  the  oily  voice  of  the  R.S.M.  in  Alf's 
ear. 

The  colonel  fixed  the  unfortunate  Alf  with  a  pro- 


BLIGHTY  FOR  TWO  105 

truding  eye,  and  continued  his  baleful  glare  until  his 
victim  was  on  the  very  verge  of  crying  out.  His 
one  idea  seemed  to  be  to  intimidate  Alf ;  he  paid  no 
attention  whatever  to  Bill,  who  was  standing  stiffly 
to  attention,  his  eyes  fixed  in  a  lack-luster  stare  on 
the  wall  above  the  adjutant's  head. 

"Well?"  the  C.O.  ground  out  at  last  between 
his  teeth.  The  sergeant-major  gave  a  consequential 
little  cough  and  signed  to  the  sergeant  of  the  guard 
to  give  his  evidence. 

"  These  men  arrived  'ere,  sir,  in  the  early  hours 
of  this  mornin',  about  four  o'clock,  and  failed  to 
give  any  satisfactory  account  of  themselves.  They 
'ad  no  kit,  sir,  an'  no  passes.  They  state  that 
they  'ave  been  transferred  to  us  from  the  Expe- 
ditionary Force,  sir,  but  they  'ave  no  papers  to 
prove  it." 

"Good  God!"  shouted  the  colonel.  "This  is 
disgraceful.  More  incompetence!  If  I've  written 
one  letter  complaining  of  this  kind  of  thing  I've  writ- 
ten a  dozen.  Men  come  here  without  papers,  with- 
out kit,  without  orders,  and  expect  us  to  look  after 
'em.  The  Army  in  France  is  one  mass  of  incom- 
petent fools,  in  my  opinion.  It's  a  scandal,  Sande- 
man." 

The  adjutant  said  nothing.  The  C.O.  hardly 
seemed  to  expect  him  to,  for  he  swept  on  without  a 
pause. 

"  If  I'd  my  way,  I'd  scrap  the  whole  lot  of  'em, 
and  have  a  few  men  who  know  their  jobs  put  in 


io6  ALPS  BUTTON 

instead.  No  papers,  no  nothing.  Disgraceful! 
Where's  your  kit,  man?  " 

Alf,  finding  that  this  question  also  was  addressed 
to  him,  and  having  no  reply  ready,  merely  gaped. 

"  Speak  up!  "  bawled  the  Colonel. 

"L  — 1  —  lost  it,  sir." 

The  C.O.  dashed  his  pen  violently  on  to  his  desk, 
where  it  stuck  quivering  on  its  point,  turned  round 
in  his  chair  and  silently  eyed  his  adjutant  for  ten 
palpitating  seconds. 

"  D'ye  hear  that,  Sandeman?  He's  lost  it. 
Good  God!  What  are  we  coming  to?  ...  The 
Government  has  fitted  him  out  with  a  complete  set 
of  kit  and  he's  lost  it  ...  and  how,"  he  vocifer- 
ated, turning  round  once  more  with  such  unexpected 
speed  that  Alf  once  more  gave  back  a  pace.  "  How 
d'you  mean  to  tell  me  you  lost  it,  eh?  " 

But  Alf's  inventive  powers  were  exhausted,  and 
Bill  judged  it  time,  at  whatever  risk  to  life  and  limb, 
to  take  a  speaking  part  in  the  little  drama. 

"  Overboard,  sir,  in  the  Channel,"  he  said,  with- 
out removing  his  eye  from  the  wall.  "  Off  of  a 
ship,"  he  added  as  an  afterthought,  in  order  that 
there  should  be  no  misunderstanding  possible. 

Colonel  Watts  appeared  to  regard  this  as  the  last 
straw.  For  a  moment  he  seemed  unable  to  articu- 
late at  all,  and  the  hue  of  his  countenance  deepened 
through  successive  shades  till  it  finally  arrived  at  a 
congested  purple.  He  hammered  on  his  desk  with 
his  fist. 


BLIGHTY  FOR  TWO  107 

"  I  will  not  have  my  valuable  time  wasted  in  this 
way !  "  he  roared.  "  Bring  these  men  before  me  to- 
morrow, sergeant-major,  and  if  I  can't  get  a  co- 
herent account  of  them  from  some  one,  there'll  be 
trouble.  Incompetent  fools !  " 

He  puffed  passionately  out  of  the  orderly-room 
and  slammed  the  door,  leaving  it  uncertain  whether 
his  last  remark  was  addressed  only  to  Alf  and  Bill, 
or  whether  it  was  not  rather  intended  to  include  the 
adjutant,  the  R.S.M.,  the  sergeant  of  the  guard  and 
the  impassive  privates  acting  as  prisoners'  escort. 
He  was  to  be  heard  faintly  outside  in  unkind  criti- 
cism of  the  sentry's  method  of  presenting  arms. 
Then  there  was  silence,  and  a  general  feeling  as 
though  the  sun  had  come  out. 

"  Prisoners  and  escort,"  began  the  R.S.M. 
"Right-TURN!  Quick.  .  .  ." 

"  Wait,  sergeant-major,"  said  Captain  Sandeman 
quietly.  "  I  want  to  ask  these  men  a  question  or 
two.  Send  the  escort  off." 

Bill's  heart  sank.  Captain  Sandeman  had  lost 
the  air  of  passive  indifference  which  he  wore  as  pro- 
tective armor  in  the  presence  of  Colonel  Watts.  He 
looked  horribly  intelligent  and  wide-awake. 

"  Now,  listen  to  me,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  under- 
stand your  case  at  all.  Are  you  rejoining  from 
hospital?  " 

"  No,  sir.     From  the  front.     Transferred,  sir." 

"  But  why?     And  where  are  your  papers?  " 

u  Didn't  'ave  no  papers,  sir.     We  was  just  told 


io8  ALFS  BUTTON 

to  report  'ere.  The  papers  is  comin'  by  post,  I 
think,  sir." 

"  Um.     Which  is  your  battalion,  and  company?  " 

"  The  fifth,  sir  — <  C  '  Comp'ny." 

Bill  was  beginning  to  realize  that  Eustace  had,  in 
his  muddle-headed  way,  landed  them  in  a  very  tight 
corner.  He  would  have  lied  had  he  dared;  but  he 
knew  that  there  must  be  scores  of  men  serving  now 
with  the  Reserve  who  had  known  both  himself  and 
Alf  at  the  front. 

"  That's  Captain  Richards'  company,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Yessir.  But  the  Captain  went  away  on  a  course 
yesterday,  sir,  and  Lieutenant  Donaldson  is  in  com- 
mand now." 

"  Yesterday?     How  d'you  know  that?" 

Bill  had  seen  his  slip  as  soon  as  he  made  it. 

"  I  'eard  'e  was  goin'  before  I  left,  sir,"  he  an- 
swered readily. 

"  Um.  And  you  don't  know  why  you've  been 
sent  back?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

Captain   Sandeman   became   suddenly  stern. 

"  There  is  something  very  irregular  about  the 
whole  business,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  see  how  you  can 
possibly  have  got  across  the  Channel  in  any  legiti- 
mate way  without  papers.  The  whole  thing  looks 
most  fishy,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  you  two  men  are 
asking  for  very  serious  trouble.  Now,  I  warn  you, 
I  give  you  an  opportunity  now  of  telling  me  all  about 
it;  but  if  you  persist  in  that  story  about  being  trans- 


BLIGHTY  FOR  TWO  109 

ferred  without  any  papers,  I'll  have  to  keep  you 
safe  here  till  I  can  find  out  the  truth  from  Mr. 
Donaldson.  Now,  what  have  you  to  say?" 

"  Nothing,  sir,"  said  Bill  quickly.  For  one  mo- 
ment he  was  afraid  that  Alf  was  going  to  lose  his 
head  and  tell  the  incredible  truth;  he  shot  a  glance 
of  warning  at  his  mate,  who  subsided;  and  the 
adjutant  waited  in  vain  for  an  answer  to  his  ap- 
peal. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said.  "  Put  'em  in  the  cells, 
sergeant-major." 

The  two  unfortunates  were  accordingly  marched 
away  and  were  once  more  handed  over  to  the  ser- 
geant of  the  guard. 

"  Cells  for  these  two  beauties,  an'  keep  'em  safe, 
or  it'll  be  worse  for  you.  Deserters  they  look  like. 
It's  a  court-martial  case." 

Alf  quaked  at  this  realization  of  his  worse  fears, 
while  even  Bill  looked  concerned. 

"  I've  on'y  one  cell,  sir,"  said  the  sergeant  of  the 
guard. 

"  Very  well.  Shove  'em  in  together.  Can't  be 
helped." 

The  R.S.M.  went  off. 

The  instant  the  key  turned  on  the  two  men,  Alf 
produced  the  Button  and  rubbed  it. 

"What  wouldst  thou  have?"  began  Eustace,  his 
deep  voice  reverberating  round  the  little  cell.  "  I 
am.  .  .  ." 

"  Stop  it  —  they'll  'ear  you !  " 


no  ALFS  BUTTON 

"  They  'ave  'card  'im,"  whispered  Bill.  "  Quick, 
Alf." 

The  sergeant,  who  had  heard  the  rumbling  voice, 
was  already  fumbling  with  the  stiff  lock. 

"  Take  us  away,"  whispered  Alf  in  trembling 
tones.  "Anywhere  out  of  'ere.  QUICK!" 

Before  the  sergeant  had  opened  the  door  the 
whole  camp  had  faded  from  their  view,  and  the  two 
found  themselves  in  a  desolate  waste,  faced  by  a 
very  puzzled  and  indignant  djinn. 

"  Lumme,  that  was  a  near  squeak!  "  gasped  Alf. 

"  Yes,"  said  Bill.  He  addressed  Eustace  in 
heated  tones.  "  What  the  'ell  did  you  want  to  go 
an'  land  us  in  a  mess  like  that  for?  Didn't  Mr. 
'Iggins  say  as  plain  as  print  it  was  a  transfer  we 
wanted.  Don't  you  know  nothing  at  all?  " 

"  It's  always  the  same,"  put  in  Alf  parenthet- 
ically. "  No  common  sense.  Too  slap-dash  an' 
'olesale." 

But  Eustace  was  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  his 
offense.  He  was  conscious  only  that  he  had  had 
to  be  called  in  at  a  desperate  crisis  to  rescue  his 
master  from  danger.  He  was  full  of  indignation 
at  such  sacrilege. 

"  Lord!  "  he  said.  u  Command  me  that  I  should 
go  to  that  impious  one  and  instantly  reduce  him  to 
ashes  —  both  him  and  his  family  and  all  that  are 
about  him.  Ill  beseemeth  it  that  any  should  lay 
impious  hands  upon  the  Lord  of  the  Button,  and 
live." 


BLIGHTY  FOR  TWO  111 

" 'E's  a  bloodthirsty  customer,  ain't  'e?"  said 
Bill  in  awed  admiration.  "Talk  about  'olesale ! 
Look  'ere,  Eustace,  you'll  be  getting  us  into  'orrible 
trouble  if  you  don't  look  out.  What  was  it  you 
wanted  to  do  —  reduce  the  R.S.M.  to  ashes? 
We're  in  a  bad  enough  'ole  as  it  is,  but  that  would 
fair  put  the  lid  on.  You  wants  to  be  a  little  more 
up  to  date.  Me  an'  Mr.  'Iggins  is  on'y  privates, 
you  know;  an'  if  we  get  monkeyin'  with  sergeant- 
majors  there'll  be  'ell  on  for  all  of  us." 

"  Verily,"  said  the  djinn  in  perplexed  tones,  "  I 
do  not  understand  thy  speech.  Ill  beseemeth  it  that 
any  man  should  presume  to  order  the  comings  and 
the  goings  of  the  Lord  of  the  Button.  Bid  me 
abase  this  proud  upstart,  and  thou  shalt  rule  in  his 
stead." 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Alf.  "  I  don't  want  to 
be  no  bloomin'  orficer.  I'm  a  plain  man,  I  am. 
You  see,  Eustace,  it's  like  this.  In  this  'ere  war, 
every  one's  fightin'  —  soldiers  an'  civilians  an'  all. 
Now,  I'm  not  a  soldier  by  trade  —  fruit  and  vege- 
table salesman  I  am.  So  I  'as  to  obey  the  orficers 
an'  the  sergeants,  'cos  they  knows  the  job.  If 
they'd  come  into  the  fruit  an'  vegetables  not  knowin' 
a  carrot  from  a  crisantlemum,  they'd  'ave  'ad  to 
obey  me.  See  ?  " 

"I  don't  think!"  put  in  Bill.  "Look  'ere, 
Eustace,  your  job's  to  get  us  out  o'  this  'ere  mess. 
Just  through  yer  bloomin'  ignorance  you're  landed 
us  in  a  proper  'ole.  'Ere  we  are;  we've  deserted 


112  ALFS  BUTTON 

from  the  front,  an'  we've  broken  arrest  in  the 
Reserve  Battalion.  'Ow  are  we  goin'  to  get  out  o' 
that,  eh?" 

Alf  made  a  tentative  suggestion,  his  mind  on 
Colonel  Watts. 

"  Better  go  back  to  France,  'adn't  we?  " 

"  I  sh'd  think  we  'ad."  Bill's  hopeless  nostalgia 
of  the  day  before  was  entirely  forgotten.  "  Why, 
I'd  sooner  stay  in  France  the  rest  o'  the  war  than 
serve  under  that  blighter  we  was  before  this 
mornin'.  'E  was  a  corker." 

"  But  if  we're  deserters,"  said  Alf  dismally, 
"  'ow  can  we  go  back?  Wouldn't  they  shoot  us?  " 

Bill  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  Why,  it's  on'y  ten  o'clock  now,"  he  said. 
"  They'd  find  we  was  gone  at  revally,  so  we've  on'y 
been  away  about  four  hours.  What's  four  hours 
when  the  battalion's  restin'?  They  can't  do  much 
to  us." 

"  Might  stop  our  leave." 

"  True  for  you.  So  they  might.  Now,  what 
can  we  .  .  .?  I  got  it.  'Ere,  Eustace,  put 
us  down  about  'arf  a  mile  from  the  camp  in  France, 
will  you?  Alf,  you  tell  'im.  'E  won't  do  it  for 
me." 

Alf  complied.  The  familiar  flat  landscape  reap- 
peared before  them  and  they  welcomed  it  almost 
with  joy. 

"  Now,"  said  Bill  impressively,  "  tell  'im  to  'op 
over  into  the  Boche  lines  an'  bring  us  a  prisoner. 


BLIGHTY  FOR  TWO  113 

An'  mind,  none  of  'is  'olesale  ways!  'E'll  bring  a 
'ole  army  corps  over  if  you  don't  look  out,  an'  then 
we'd  look  silly.  Just  one,  tell  'im  —  a  officer." 

In  a  moment  a  fat  and  haughty-looking  German 
officer  stood  beside  them.  When  he  saw  the  khaki 
tunics,  his  hand  went  to  his  side,  but  the  two  Tom- 
mies flung  themselves  upon  him. 

"  Get  'is  revolver,  Alf,"  panted  Bill.  "  That's 
the  ticket.  Now  then,  'ands  up,  Fritz.  You  come 
with  us.  You're  our  blinkin'  alibi." 

"What  are  you?"  asked  the  Boche,  in  excellent 
English.  "  You  have,  I  suppose,  escaped  from  your 
cage.  I  warn  you,  you  English  dogs,  to  be  more 
respectful  to  your  superiors.  When  you  are  caught 
it  shall  go  hard  with  you.  That  a  common  English 
swine  shall  call  me  Fritz." 

"  Nothin'  to  what  you'll  be  called  in  a  minute  if 
you  don't  be'ave.  Alf,  I  b'lieve  the  pore  blighter 
thinks  'e's  still  in  'is  own  lines.  What  a  sell  for  'im." 

"  Come  on,  Bochie,"  said  Alf,  his  finger  on  the 
trigger  of  the  revolver.  "  Quick  march." 

"  I  will  not  move,"  declared  the  prisoner  sullenly. 
'  You  cannot  escape.  There  are  men  of  mine  on 
every  side.  Give  me  the  revolver  and  I  will  see 
that  you  are  not  punished  —  much." 

"  Thank  you  for  nothing,"  said  Bill.  "  These 
'ere  are  the  British  lines  you're  in,  Fritz  dear,  an' 
you're  our  prisoner  —  see?  " 

The  German,  who  still  failed  to  grasp  the  situa- 
tion, broke  into  a  torrent  of  abuse  and  threats. 


ii4  ALPS  BUTTON 

"  Ain't  'e  the  little  gentleman,"  said  Alf  in  admira- 
tion. 

Bill  suddenly  lost  patience. 

"  'Ere,"  he  said.  "  Let's  kill  'im  an'  get  another 
one.  I  can't  stand  'ere  arguin'  all  day.  For  one 
thing,  the  longer  we  stays  away  the  bigger  row  we 
gets  into.  Now,  Fritz,  take  yer  choice.  Will  you 
come  quiet,  or  will  you  'ave  a  nice  cheap  funeral?  " 

The  German,  seeing  that  Bill  was  in  earnest,  and 
believing  that  his  rescue  could  not  be  long  delayed, 
marched  stiffly  off  with  a  very  bad  grace.  His 
astonishment  was  pitiable  when  he  found  himself 
being  marched  through  little  knots  and  groups  of 
staring  figures  in  khaki  to  a  British  camp.  His 
bombastic  air  disappeared,  and  his  knees  sagged 
under  him. 

"  Thought  you'd  'ave  a  shock  before  long, 
Fritz,"  said  Bill.  "  Comes  o'  not  believin'  a 
gentleman's  word.  Step  lively,  now.  We're  just 
'ome,  an'  I  want  you  to  look  yer  best.  After  this," 
he  added  in  an  undertone  to  Alf,  "  they  can't  say 
very  much  to  us,  anyway." 

Bill  was  right.  In  the  excitement  caused  by 
their  dramatic  return,  the  authorities  forgot  to  make 
any  inquiry  into  the  unauthorized  absence  of  the 
heroes  of  the  hour. 


CHAPTER  IX 

LIEUTENANT  DONALDSON  BECOMES  SUSPICIOUS 

SOME  days  later,  Lieutenant  Donaldson  was 
sitting  in  "  C  "  Company  officers'  billet,  when 
the  battalion  intelligence  officer  entered. 

"  Hallo,"  said  Donaldson.  "  You  look  worried. 
What's  up?" 

"  I  am  worried.  I  wish  you'd  point  out  to  your 
company  what  a  nuisance  they  make  themselves  to 
their  superiors  when  they  go  capturing  Boche  offi- 
cers in  the  rest  area.  Ask  'em  to  think  twice  in 
future.  It'd  save  trouble  if  they'd  kill  the  next  one 
they  find  and  bury  him  on  the  spot." 

"  Why,  what's  up?" 

"  Well,  the  Staff's  very  anxious  to  know  what  this 
particular  chap  was  doing  and  how  he  got  there. 
I  do  see  their  point,  you  know.  They  take  the 
highly  reasonable  view  that  as  prisoners  are  not 
usually  captured  miles  behind  the  lines  in  full  uni- 
form, this  chap  must  have  been  up  to  some  extra 
special  form  of  devilry.  The  presumption  is  that 
he'd  been  spying,  but  they  can't  get  a  word  of  sense 
out  of  the  man  himself.  He  pretends  not  to  know 
how  he  got  into  our  lines.  And  the  queer  thing  is 
that  we  found  papers  on  him  dated  the  same  day 

115 


n6  ALPS  BUTTON 

as  his  capture  —  routine  orders  and  so  on  —  which 
tally  with  papers  of  the  same  date  on  other  prisoners 
taken  in  the  usual  way.  The  thing's  uncanny, 
because  it's  so  senseless." 

"  Have  you  noticed,"  said  Lieutenant  Donaldson 
reflectively,  "  that  there've  been  one  or  two  things 
out  of  the  ordinary  that  have  happened  in  this  bat- 
talion lately?  " 

"  I  know.  And  the  colonel  wants  it  stopped. 
Says  it'll  give  the  battalion  a  bad  name." 

"  Perhaps  we've  a  family  ghost,"  suggested  Don- 
aldson. "  Anyway,  I  don't  see  how  it  hurts  you." 

"Me?  The  Staff  seem  to  think  I'm  entirely 
responsible  for  the  whole  thing.  They  want  to 
know  —  in  writing  —  why  I  didn't  get  a  full  bio- 
graphy of  the  blighter  when  he  was  brought  in  — 
as  if  he  was  any  more  likely  to  unbosom  himself  to 
me  than  to  the  people  who  caught  him.  And  now, 
to  give  me  a  chance  of  recovery  of  my  prestige,  I 
suppose,  I've  to  see  Higgins  and  Grant  and  find  out 
anything  I  can  from  them.  Could  you  have  'em 
sent  for?" 

"  Of  course." 

'  The  officer's  compliments  to  'is  conquerin' 
'eroes,"  said  Sergeant  Lees  when  the  message  ar- 
rived, "  an'  would  they  favor  'im  with  their  company 
for  a  quiet  chat?  " 

Ever  since  Alf  and  Bill's  exploit  had  shed  brilliant 
if  unexpected  luster  on  their  platoon,  Sergeant  Lees 
had  unbent  with  them  and  assumed  a  heavy  jocular- 


DONALDSON  BECOMES  SUSPICIOUS     117 

ity.  This  was  his  method  of  indicating  that  he  was 
pleased  with  them,  but  it  filled  Alf  with  grave  fore- 
bodings. Bill,  on  the  other  hand,  took  what  the 
gods  gave  and  basked  in  the  brief  sunshine  of  the 
sergeant's  smile.  On  this  occasion,  however,  he 
basked  too  openly  and  the  sun  went  in. 

"  Well,"  he  answered  in  languid,  aristocratic 
tones.  "  If  Don  feels  Vd  like  to  see  us,  I  s'pose 
we  might  as  well  drop  round  for  a  minute  or  two, 
eh,  Alfred?" 

"  'Ere,"  said  the  sergeant,  who  held  that  a  joke 
was  only  a  joke  so  long  as  the  right  person  made  it, 
"  none  o'  that.  Clean  yourselves  up  an'  report  to 
the  officers'  billet  immediate." 

"  Come  in,"  called  Lieutenant  Donaldson,  as  Bill 
knocked  on  the  door.  "  Stand  easy.  Now,  Grant 
and  Higgins.  I  haven't  had  a  chance  of  congratulat- 
ing you  on  what  you  did  the  other  day." 

"  That  wasn't  nothing,  sir  —  on'y  luck,  that  was," 
murmured  Bill,  and  Alf  shuffled  his  feet  sympathet- 
ically. Each  had  an  uncomfortable  feeling  that  he 
was  obtaining  credit  on  false  pretenses. 

"  However,"  continued  the  company  commander, 
"  what  I  want  you  to  do  now  is  to  tell  the  intelli- 
gence officer  just  how  it  all  happened,  and  answer 
his  questions." 

He  was  looking  at  Higgins  as  he  spoke,  and  could 
not  help  being  struck  with  the  expression  of  horrified 
apprehension  that  flitted  across  those  ingenuous 
features.  He  said  nothing,  however,  but  while  the 


n8  ALPS  BUTTON 

intelligence  officer  was  catechizing  them  he  kept  his 
sleepy-looking  but  most  observant  eyes  more  than 
ordinarily  wide  open. 

"  And  that's  all  you  can  tell  me?  "  asked  the  I.O., 
after  he  had  asked  a  dozen  questions  and  received 
nothing  but  the  most  unsatisfactory  of  replies. 

"  Yes,  sir.  The  B'oche,  'e  didn't  tell  us  nothing. 
'E  comes  down  the  road,  an'  we  jumps  out  on  'im. 
'Iggins  'ere  grabs  'is  pistol,  an'  we  marches  'im 
'ome.  That's  all." 

"  Did  you  question  him  at  all?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"Why  not?  You  didn't  expect  to  see  a  Boche 
officer  there,  did  you?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Then  why  didn't  you  question  him?  " 

Bill  looked  about  him  for  inspiration,  and  got  it. 

"  I  thought,  sir,  as  'ow  we  ought  to  leave  all  that 
to  you." 

Lieutenant  Donaldson  watched  the  relief  over- 
flow Alf's  countenance,  and  wondered  what  all  this 
could  mean. 

"  That's  what  the  Staff  seem  to  think,  too," 
sighed  the  I.O.,  getting  sadly  to  his  feet.  "  Well, 
if  that's  all  you  can  tell  me,  I'll  be  off.  I  hope  it'll 
pacify  the  blighters.  I  can  see  myself  getting  shot 
at  dawn  over  this  business.  So  long,  Donaldson." 

He  went  out.  Higgins  and  Grant  saluted  and 
were  about  to  follow,  when  Donaldson,  taking  a 
letter  from  his  pocket,  stopped  them. 


DONALDSON  BECOMES  SUSPICIOUS     119 

"  I've  had  a  most  curious  letter,"  he  said  slowly, 
"  from  the  Reserve  Battalion."  He  looked  up 
sharply  as  he  spoke,  and  saw  sheer  panic  terror 
gazing  at  him  from  Alf's  eyes.  "  Captain  Sande- 
man  writes  to  ask  if  you  two  men  are  here  or 
whether  by  any  chance  you  have  deserted.  He  gives 
your  names  and  numbers  correctly,  and  a  description 
of  you  both,  and  says  that  these  two  men  reported 
to  his  battalion  and  then  broke  out  of  the  guard- 
room and  mysteriously  disappeared." 

He  looked  sharply  from  one  to  the  other.  Alf 
was  trembling  visibly;  Bill  was  trying  to  look  uncon- 
cerned, but  with  little  success. 

"  Now,  listen  to  me,"  said  Lieutenant  Donaldson, 
in  the  most  impressive  voice  he  could  summon. 
"  Understand  this.  I've  had  my  eye  on  you  two 
men  for  some  time,  and  this  little  game  of  yours  has 
got  to  stop.  I  shall  say  no  more  now,  but  the  next 
time  .  .  ." 

He  glanced  once  more  at  Alf,  and  saw  that  the 
effects  of  his  remarks  were  good. 

"  Now  go,"  he  said,  "  and  remember,  be  very 
careful  in  future.  You're  both  due  for  your  month's 
leave  in  a  short  time,  and  it  would  be  a  pity  to  spoil 
it.  That's  all." 

As  the  two  saluted  and  shambled  out  their  officer 
gave  a  rueful  laugh. 

"  Now,  I'd  give  a  good  deal,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  to  know  just  exactly  what  I  was  talking  about  just 
now,  and  what  they  thought  I  meant." 


120  ALPS  BUTTON 

"  What  are  we  goin'  to  do  now,  Bill?  "  asked  Alf 
miserably,  as  soon  as  they  had  left  the  company  com- 
mander's presence. 

"  Do?  "  said  Bill,  who  had  recovered  his  balance 
to  some  extent.  "  Why,  nothin'.  What  d'you  want 
to  do?" 

"  Well,  it's  all  up,  ain't  it,  now  'e  knows  all  about 
it?" 

"  Rats!  "  said  Bill  contemptuously.  "  'Ow  can  'e 
know  all  about  it?  I  told  you  before  that  Don's  no 
fool,  but  'e  ain't  such  a  bloomin'  conjurer  as  all  that. 
'E's  just  noticed  that  there's  something  funny  about 
me  an'  you,  that's  all;  an'  'e's  got  both  eyes  wide 
open  now  waitin'  for  next  time.  Well,  there  ain't 
got  to  be  no  next  time,  that's  all." 

"  You  mean  I'll  'ave  to  throw  the  Button  away?  " 

"What!  Throw  it  away?  You're  barmy." 
Bill  glared  at  his  pal. 

"Well,  what  do  I  do?" 

"  I  tell  yer.     Do  nothing." 

"Nothing  at  all?     Keep  the  Button,  an'  .  .  ." 

"  O'  course  you  keep  the  Button,  you  blinkin' 
idjit.  Does  Don  know  anything  about  yer  blinkin' 
Button?  It's  my  belief  Don  don't  know  a  thing  — 
'e's  just  bluffin'  us.  But  all  you  'ave  to  do  is  to  leave 
the  Button  alone  till  we  get  our  leave.  No  more 
Eustace  till  we're  safe  'ome;  but  if  you  chuck  the 
Button  away,  Alf  'Iggins,  I'll  'arf  kill  you.  But  I'd 
give  a  good  bit,  I  would,  to  know  'ow  much  Don- 
aldson really  knows." 


DONALDSON  BECOMES  SUSPICIOUS     121 

Next  day  the  news  came  through  that  the  brigade 
was  not  after  all  to  be  sent  to  another  part  of  the 
front;  instead,  it  moved  up  once  more  for  a  tour  of 
duty  in  the  well-known  sector.  The  attention  of 
both  sides  at  this  time  was  concentrated  on  the  great 
battle  going  on  at  Arras,  and  the  remainder  of  the 
front  was  quiet  but  watchful.  On  the  brigade's 
frontage  nothing  more  strenuous  happened  than  a 
continuous  but  not  very  intense  bombardment,  and 
though  the  division  on  their  right  made  a  trench- 
raid,  the  Middlesex  Fusiliers  were  not  called  upon 
for  any  exciting  work. 

During  all  this  period  Alf  and  Bill  were  as  con- 
spicuous by  their  presence  among  their  mates  as  they 
had  formerly  been  by  their  absence.  Whenever 
wiring-parties  and  similar  delights  were  required, 
their  names  were  usually  the  first  on  Sergeant  Lees' 
list,  while  fatigues  of  every  kind  became  to  them  a 
hobby. 

"  It's  a  queer  thing,"  the  sergeant  observed 
caustically  to  the  company  sergeant-major  one  day, 
after  he  had  fallen  in  a  working-party  for  Lieutenant 
Donaldson's  inspection,  and  had  heard  the  officer 
comment  favorably  on  the  appearance  of  Privates 
Higgins  and  Grant,  "  what  good  soldiers  all  our 
scally-wags  seem  to  'ave  become,  now  that  there's  a 
chance  of  gettin'  a  leave.  They'll  eat  out  o'  me  'and 
now,  but  you  see  what'll  'appen  as  soon  as  they've 
'ad  their  leave.  More  trouble  they'll  be  'n  a  bagful 
o'  monkeys." 


122  ALF'S  BUTTON 

The  two  were  feeling  the  monotony  of  their  return 
to  the  ordinary  existence  of  the  front  very  bitterly. 

"  Takes  all  the  spice  out  o'  life,  not  bein'  able  to 
do  things  with  Eustace,"  said  Bill,  quite  forgetting 
that  he  had  managed  to  infuse  quite  a  considerable 
amount  of  spice  into  his  life  in  the  days  before  the 
coming  of  the  djinn.  "  If  our  leave  don't  come 
through  soon  I  shall  go  clean  barmy,  I  b'lieve." 

At  last  the  longed-for  moment  arrived.  They 
were  both  officially  informed  that  their  reengage- 
ment  leave  of  twenty-eight  days  was  duly  sanctioned 
and  that,  barring  accidents,  they  would  depart  in  one 
week's  time. 

"A  week?"  sighed  Alf  dolefully.  "We  may 
both  be  pushin'  up  the  daisies  in  a  week  from  now." 

"  That's  what  I  like  about  you,  Higgins,  you're  so 
cheerful,"  said  Corporal  Greenstock,  who  overheard 
this  remark.  "  Anyhow,  if  you  want  to  start  daisy- 
pushing  this  journey  you'll  have  to  hurry.  We're 
being  relieved  to-night."  He  passed  on. 

"  A  week  is  little  enough,  too,"  said  Bill  suddenly, 
"  for  all  we  got  to  do." 

"What  d'you  mean?" 

"  We  got  to  settle  up  about  this  'ere  marriage  o' 
yours,  to  begin  with.  Why,  we  don't  even  know  the 
bloomin'  girl's  name,  yet." 

Alf  grinned  sheepishly. 

"I  do,"  he  said.  He  extracted  from  his  pocket 
a  bulky  and  dilapidated  pocket-book,  from  the  dusky 
recesses  of  which  he  produced  a  wad  of  paper.  He 


DONALDSON  BECOMES  SUSPICIOUS     123 

unfolded  this  and  smoothed  out  its  many  creases, 
when  it  disclosed  itself  as  a  page  torn  from  the  last 
number  of  The  Sketch  which  had  reached  the  bat- 
talion. It  was  headed  "  A  Paradise  for  Wounded 
Heroes."  The  first  photograph  showed  Alf's  won- 
derful visitor  in  nurse's  uniform,  and  beneath  it  was 
written,  "  Miss  Isobel  FitzPeter,  the  famous  society 
beauty.  She  has  now  left  Town  altogether  and  is 
devoting  herself  entirely  to  the  Convalescent  Home 
for  Officers  which  she  has  established  at  her  father's 
beautiful  place,  Dunwater  Park,  of  which  we  give 
pictures  below.  Miss  FitzPeter  has  taken  entire 
charge  of  the  administrative  work  of  the  Home.  We 
congratulate  the  fortunate  few  whose  lucky  stars 
will  lead  them  into  the  care  of  so  fair  a  pair  of 
hands." 

"  Umph ! "  said  Bill,  when  he  had  inwardly 
digested  this.  "  So  that's  'oo  she  is !  Well,  I  must 
say  I  thought  she  might  'ave  been  Lady  Something. 
Why,  she  ain't  even  a  '  honorable.'  You'd  better 
change  your  mind,  Alf,  before  you  get  too  far.  Sure 
you  wouldn't  like  a  princess?  Eustace'll  get  one  for 
you  as  easy  as  wink." 

But  Alf  shook  his  head;  he  had  been  thankful  to 
find  that  the  lady  of  his  dreams  moved  in  no  more 
rarefied  an  atmosphere.  It  had  made  her  a  little 
more  accessible. 

Bill  continued  his  study  of  the  page  in  his  hand. 

"  '  Dunwater  Park,  from  the  South,'  "  he  read. 
"Nice  little  villa  enough  —  'bout  the  size  o'  Buck- 


124  ALFS  BUTTON 

ingham  Palace.  You  won't  'ave  to  turn  the  kids 
out  of  their  bedroom  when  I  come  week-endin'  with 
you  an'  the  missus  there,  will  you?  " 

Alf  gave  a  nervous  snigger. 

"  *  Dunwater  Park,  from  the  North- West,'  "  pur- 
sued Bill.  "  Yes,  it's  a  big  place,  but  we'll  make 
Eustace  put  one  up  for  us  as'll  beat  this  all  to 
nothing.  What's  this?  '  Group  of  officers  at 
present  under  Miss  FitzPeter's  care.'  Look  'appy 
enough,  don't  they?  Why  ain't  she  in  it?  If  I'd 
been  'er,  I'd  'ave  planked  meself  down  in  the  middle 
of  that  photo,  I  would.  'Ullo,  'ere's  one  'oo  looks 
like  our  Mr.  Allen." 

"  P'raps  it  is  'im." 

11  They  don't  put  names,  so  we  can't  tell.  Ever 
'ad  yer  photo  in  the  papers,  Alf?  " 

"No.     'Ow  could  I?" 

"  Well,  they  'ave  lots  o'  silly  things  in  sometimes. 
Any'ow,  once  you've  married  this  girl  and  got  a  big 
'ouse  you'll  'ave  yer  photo  in  once  a  day,  an'  twice 
on  Sundays.  'Go's  this  ole  cock  at  the  bottom  o'  the 
page?  '  Sir  Edward  FitzPeter.'  That's 'er  pa.  If 
I'd  been  you  I'd  'ave  'ad  a  lord,  but  you  never  was 
proud,  was  you,  Alf?  " 

"  Bill,"  answered  Higgins  seriously,  "  it  ain't  no 
good." 

"What  ain't  no  good?" 

"  My  marryin'  'er.  It  —  it  ain't  right.  She's 
too  'igh  up  for  me.  She  —  she  ought  to  'ave  a 
•  gentleman." 


DONALDSON  BECOMES  SUSPICIOUS     125 

"  Lumme,"  said  Bill  scornfully,  "  you  ain't  goin' 
to  get  cold  feet  now,  are  you?  'Ere  you  are,  the 
richest  man  in  the  'ole  world  once  you  get  'ome,  an' 
you  go  an'  get  the  wind  up  because  some  bloomin' 
girl  without  even  a  Hon  before  'er  name  is  too  'igh 
for  you." 

"  'Oo's  the  richest  man  in  the  world?  " 
1  You  are,  o'  course.  Don't  you  ever  sit  down 
an'  think  out  what  you  can  do  with  that  Button  o' 
yours?  Lumme,  if  /  'ad  it  ...  'Ere,  just  as 
a  test  like,  tell  Eustace  to  bring  you  a  thousand 
quid!" 

"  Not  me.     We  said  we  wouldn't  .  .  ." 
"Right  you  are  —  my  mistake,"   conceded  Bill. 
"  Well,  you  can  take  it  from  me  it'll  be  all  right." 
"  Eustace  generally  mucks  it  some'ow." 
"  Ah,  but  that's  because  we  been  giving  'im  things 
to  do  as  'e's  not  used  to.     But  this  weddin'  business 
an'  the  'ouse  an'  so  on'll  be  easy  to  'im;  he's  done  it 
all  before  for  Aladdin.     If  only  that  ole  lady'd  send 
me  that  book  what  I  asked  'er  for,  we'd  know  better 
what  Eustace  can  do.     But  if  she  don't  get  a  move 
on  it'll  be  too  late." 

But  next  day,  when  the  company  reached  its  billet, 
a  mail  arrived,  in  which  was  a  bulky  package  ad- 
dressed to  Mr.  William  Grant,  Pte.  The  old  lady 
had  not  failed  her  protege.  The  parcel  contained 
an  aged  copy  of  the  Arabian  Nights,  leather  bound 
and  smelling  faintly  of  camphor.  Between  two 
pages  of  the  book  had  been  slipped  a  letter. 


126  ALPS  BUTTON 

"  DEAR  WILLIAM  GRANT,"  it  ran. 

"  I  can  so  well  imagine  how  the  hearts  of  our 
dear  boys  in  the  trenches  must  yearn  for  the  simple 
stories  of  their  childhood.  I  have  been  unable  to 
obtain  for  you  a  separate  edition  of  the  story  you 
desire,  so  I  send  you  a  complete  edition  which 
belonged  to  my  poor  brother.  It  was  one  of  his 
most  cherished  treasures,  and  I  have  always  pre- 
served it  in  memory  of  him;  but  I  am  sure  that  he 
could  have  wished  nothing  better  than  that  his  book 
should  be  instrumental  in  adding  to  the  happiness 
of  our  brave  soldiers.  That  it  may  bring  you  some 
cheer  in  the  midst  of  your  terrible  troubles  is  the 
earnest  wish  of 

"  Yours  most  truly, 
"  SOPHIA  BROWNE." 

"  I  call  that  pathetic,  I  do,"  said  Alf. 

"  Pore  ole  girl,"  said  Bill.  "  Seems  a  shame, 
don't  it?" 

"  Tell  you  what,"  Alf  suggested,  "  we'll  keep  it 
nice  an'  clean  an'  send  it  'er  back  when  we've  done 
with  it.  Don't  seem  fair,  do  it,  not  to?  " 

"  Well,  you  ain't  started  very  well,  'ave  you?  " 

"What  d'yer  mean?" 

Bill  leant  forward  and  laid  his  finger  on  the  open 
page,  whose  slightly  yellowed  surface  was  now 
adorned  with  a  smudgy  impress  of  Alf  Higgins' 
unwashed  thumb. 

For  the  rest  of  that  day  Bill  devoted  himself 


DONALDSON  BECOMES  SUSPICIOUS     127 

sternly  to  study.  He  found  the  story  of  Aladdin 
very  long  and  full  of  irrelevant  detail,  but  by  night 
his  task  was  ended. 

"  Nice  people  they  was  in  them  times,"  he  said, 
as  he  shut  the  book.  "  Kill  you  as  soon  as  look  at 
you.  Alf,  'ere's  a  bit  of  advice  for  you.  Whatever 
you  do,  mind  you  never  send  Eustace  birds-nestin' 
for  you." 

"  Birds-nestin'  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Seems  it's  the  one  thing  'e  can't  stick. 
Aladdin  nearly  upset  the  apple-cart  that  way.  'E 
asked  for  a  rook's  egg  and  Eustace  turned  nasty. 
Read  for  yourself." 

Alf  plodded  painfully  through  the  passage. 

"  Do  R-O-C  spell  *  rook  '  ?  "  he  asked  finally. 

"  'Course  it  do,"  said  Bill.  "  So  now  we'll  'ave  to 
be  careful.  'Tain't  the  kind  o'  thing  a  sensible 
bloke  would  ask  for  any'ow,  but  people  do  get  silly 
fancies." 

"  What  else  do  the  book  say?  " 

"  Just  what  I  told  you.  There's  on'y  one  thing 
in  this  world  you  can't  'ave,  my  lad,  an'  that's  this 
bloomin'  rook's  egg.  Eustace'll  rig  you  up  a  'ouse 
in  'arf  a  tick  as'll  make  Windsor  Castle  look  like 
workmen's  dwellin's.  You've  on'y  got  to  say  the 
word,  an'  there  it  is.  So  what  we  'ave  to  do  is  to 
'ave  a  real  tip-top  palace  stuck  down  somewhere 
near  this  Ditchwater  Park." 

"  But  'ow  can  we?  " 

"  'Ow  d'yer  mean?     Eustace'll  do  it." 


128  ALPS  BUTTON 

"  Yes,  but  if  we  go  plantin'  palaces  on  other 
people's  ground  we'll  get  sent  to  clink,  or  something. 
Then  we'd  look  silly." 

"  Good  for  you,  Alf.  That's  true.  In  the  book 
Aladdin  got  a  bit  o'  land  from  'is  girl's  father,  an' 
built  'is  'appy  'ome  on  that.  We  can't  do  that 
That  ole  boy  in  your  picture  don't  look  that  sort. 
No,  I'll  tell  you  what  —  we'll  'ave  to  take  a  'ouse  — 
one  of  these  'ere  big  'ouses  in  the  country  like  the  one 
your  girl  lives  in,  an'  we'll  let  Eustace  do  it  all  up. 
Arter  all,  if  we  went  an'  told  Eustace  to  build  us  a 
palace  all  in  a  night  we'd  'ave  the  police  an'  the 
newspapers  an'  I  don't  know  what  else  on  our 
tracks." 

"  There  mayn't  be  no  big  'ouse  goin'  in  'er  neigh- 
bor'ood." 

"  Well,  we'll  'ave  to  send  Eustace  over  an'  find 
out." 

"  Send  Eustace?  "  inquired  Alf  vaguely. 

"  We'll  'ave  to.     We  got  no  time  to  waste." 

"  But  the  officer  said  .  .  ." 

"  I  know  what  'e  said  as  well  as  you  do;  an'  I'm 
no  more  wishful  to  get  my  leave  stopped  than  what 
you  are.  But  after  all,  where's  the  'arm?  We 
never  been  found  out  yet,  an'  it  won't  take  'arf  a 
tick,  an'  I  know  a  place  where  we'll  never  get 
spotted." 

Reluctantly  Alf  was  persuaded  to  Bill's  retreat  — 
a  disused  dug-out  —  and  there,  in  much  trepidation, 
he  summoned  Eustace.  He  produced  The  Sketch 


DONALDSON  BECOMES  SUSPICIOUS     129 

cutting  once  more  from  his  pocket-book,  and  Bill 
explained  to  the  djinn  what  was  wanted. 

"  Mr.  'Iggins  wants  to  marry  that  young  lady  you 
introduced  'im  to,  Eustace,"  Grant  explained. 

"  Verily,"  replied  the  djinn,  u  the  maid  is  of  a 
fairness  surpassing  even  the  Princess  Badralbudour, 
the  bride  of  the  Prince  Aladdin." 

"  Yes.  Well,  this  is  'er  'ouse,  see?  'E  wants 
you  to  take  a  'ouse  for  'im  near  by,  something  after 
the  same  style." 

"  In  truth,"  said  Eustace  disdainfully,  "  it  is  not 
meet  that  the  Lord  of  the  Button  should  dwell  in  so 
mean  a  house.  Command  me  that  I  build  thee  a 
palace  like  unto  that  of  Aladdin,  or  even  more  richly 
bedight  still,  and  it  shall  be  done." 

"  Palaces  ain't  the  fashion  now,"  returned  Bill 
imperturbably.  "  This  sort  of  thing  is  all  the  rage. 
The  lady  won't  like  anything  else,  an'  we  'ave  to 
think  of  'er,  you  know." 

"  See  what  you  can  do,  Eustace,"  said  Alf,  "  an' 
we'll  wait  'ere  for  you." 

"  Lord,  I  hear  and  obey." 

The  djinn  disappeared,  and  remained  absent  for 
half  an  hour,  when  he  materialized  once  more,  wear- 
ing a  complacent  expression. 

"  Lord,"  he  said,  "  it  is  done.  When  will  it 
please  my  Lord  to  see  his  dwelling  place?  " 

"'Ave  you  took  a  'ouse  already?"  asked  Alf, 
aghast. 

"  Verily,  the  dwelling  is  unworthy  that  the  Lord 


130  ALF'S  BUTTON 

of  the  Button  should  inhabit  it;  yet  is  it  not  less  in 
appearance  than  the  dwelling  of  thy  bride's  father, 
and  assuredly  in  the  magnificence  of  its  interior  it 
doth  far  outshine  his." 

Alf  turned  despairingly  to  Bill. 

"  There  'e  goes  again.  Slapdash  an'  'olesale. 
'Ow  do  we  know  what  'arm  'e's  done?  'E's 
probably  mucked  up  the  'ole  show  now.  I'm  getting 
fed  up." 

"  Lord,"  said  the  djinn,  "  the  dwelling  is  lacking 
in  nothing  that  the  most  extravagent  of  monarchs 
could  desire." 

"  You  read  the  book,  Alf,"  advised  Bill.  "  It'll 
be  all  right.  If  there's  one  thing  Eustace  does  know 
all  about,  it's  'ouse-furnishin'  an'  decoratin'.  You 
wait  a  week,  an'  you'll  .  .  ." 

He  broke  off  in  the  middle  of  his  sentence  and 
listened  intently.  Voices  were  heard  above,  and  then 
the  sound  of  feet  descending  the  stairs.  Eustace 
vanished  without  waiting  for  orders  —  he  was 
quickly  becoming  accustomed  to  his  new  routine. 
The  two  men,  pocketing  their  pipes,  retreated  to  the 
farthest  depths  of  the  dug-out.  The  footsteps  grew 
louder,  till  three  figures,  dimly  silhouetted  against 
the  light  from  the  stairway,  entered  the  dug-out. 

"  This  is  the  place,  sir,"  said  Lieutenant  Donald- 
son's voice.  "  I  noticed  it  the  other  day.  It  runs 
quite  a  long  way  back,  and  if  Finlay  cares  to  put  his 
stuff  here  I'll  put  a  sentry  over  it." 

"  Seems   all  right,"   said  another  voice,   at   the 


DONALDSON  BECOMES  SUSPICIOUS     131 

sound  of  which  Bill  clutched  Alf  s  arm.  "  Let's 
have  a  look  at  it." 

Colonel  Enderby  switched  on  his  pocket  torch  and 
cast  its  faint  beam  round,  but  without  disclosing  the 
cowering  figures  in  the  corner. 

"  Well,  Finlay,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  don't  think 
you'll  get  a  better  bomb-store  than  this." 

"  No,  sir."  The  bombing  officer  switched  on  his 
own  torch  and  walked  to  the  far  end,  examining  the 
walls  for  signs  of  damp.  "  Seems  quite  dry,  too. 
I  — Hallo!" 

"What's  the  matter?" 

Lieutenant  Finlay  had  found  the  rays  of  his  torch 
throwing  up  into  ghastly  relief  the  open  mouth  and 
glassy  terrified  eyes  of  Private  Higgins. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  he  said  sharply.  "  Come  out 
of  that!" 

"What's  the  matter?"  repeated  the  Colonel. 

"There's  a  man  here,  sir. —  two  men,  I  mean. 
Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  Privates  Grant  and  Higgins,  sir."  The  two 
came  sheepishly  into  the  light. 

"  What?  "  said  Lieutenant  Donaldson  in  tones  of 
thunder.  "You  two  again?  What  are  you  up  to 
now?" 

"  Looking  for  another  German  officer,  I  expect," 
said  the  colonel  humorously.  "  Well,  well,  we 
mustn't  be  too  hard  on  such  a  remarkable  pair,  Mr. 
Donaldson.  But  they  must  understand  that  this 
straying  from  their  platoon  must  cease." 


132  ALPS  BUTTON 

"  Yes,  sir."  The  company  commander  turned  to 
his  two  scapegraces.  "  Clear  out  of  this,"  he  said 
in  a  fierce  tone,  "  and  you  can  thank  your  lucky  stars 
that  the  colonel  was  here.  I'm  fed  up  with  you." 

The  two,  returning  to  their  platoon  at  the  double, 
sought  out  Sergeant  Lees  and  volunteered  for  a 
carrying  party  for  which  that  N.C.O.  was  just  de- 
tailing a  reluctant  squad. 

"  Cert'nly,"  said  he.  "  Always  ready  to  oblige, 
I  am.  Sure  you  'aven't  any  little  friends  you'd  like 
to  bring?  Very  well,  then,  never  say  I  didn't  do 
anything  for  you." 


CHAPTER  X 

EUSTACE   BLUNDERS  AGAIN 

THE  leave-train,  which  had  been  in  motion  for 
quite  ten  minutes,  stopped  once  more  with  a 
jerk,  and  Bill,  curled  up  in  a  corner,  swore  com- 
prehensively. 

"  Lord,"  he  said,  "  if  I  didn't  know  it  was 
Blighty  I  was  bound  for,  I'd  get  out  an'  walk  back  to 
my  blinkin'  battalion." 

"  Don't  seem  too  anxious  to  get  away  from  the 
front,  do  they?"  said  a  gunner  sitting  opposite. 
"  Seems  as  though  the  old  engine  can't  bear  to  leave 
it.  'Ullo,  we've  started  again.  Bet  you  we  don't 
go  further'n  that  little  bridge  along  there." 

"  It's  a  bet !  "  said  Bill.  "  'Ere,  Alf,  wake  up  an' 
'old  the  stakes." 

With  keen  interest  they  watched  the  bridge  com- 
ing nearer.  At  last  they  rattled  across  it  in  a 
leisurely  manner. 

"  I  win,"  said  Bill.     "  'And  over,  Alf." 

"  On'y  just,  though,"  said  the  gunner  with  a  rueful 
grin,  as  the  train  stopped  once  more  with  a  grinding 
of  brakes. 

"  'Ere,  I'm  tired  o'  this  bloomin'  train.  Come 
out  an'  stretch  yer  legs  a  bit,  Alf." 

133 


134  ALPS  BUTTON 

"  Don't  get  left  b'e'ind,"  -advised  the  gunner.  "  I 
want  to  win  my  franc  back." 

They  sat  down  by  the  side  of  the  track. 

"  Some  train!  "  said  Alf,  breaking  a  long  silence. 

"  Perishin',"  answered  Bill.  "  But  it's  a  bit 
better'n  doin'  them  blinkin'  fatigues  for  the 
sergeant,  eh?  " 

"You  bet!" 

The  two  men  had  spent  a  very  wearing  week. 
Wherever  they  went  the  cold  disapproving  eye  of 
Lieutenant  Donaldson  seemed  to  be  upon  them;  and 
they  had  been  constrained  to  live  a  life  of  painful  and 
laborious  virtue.  Sergeant  Lees,  divining  their  feel- 
ings, had  taken  shameful  advantage  of  them  with 
a  view  (he  explained)  to  keeping  them  out  of  mis- 
chief. 

As  a  consequence  they  had  for  the  past  week 
lived  in  a  giddy  social  whirl  of  ration-parties,  carry- 
ing-parties and  similar  entertainments.  But  relieved 
as  they  were  at  having  started  their  journey,  they 
were  not  beyond  chafing  at  the  dilatory  methods  of 
the  train.  At  no  time  did  it  travel  at  much  above 
a  walking  pace;  and  it  was  liable  at  any  time  and  for 
no  apparent  reason  to  abandon  all  attempts  to  pro- 
ceed. It  would  stand  miserably  for  minutes 
together,  and  when  it  moved  on,  it  did  so  without 
warning  —  a  habit  which,  in  a  more  energetic  train, 
might  have  proved  annoying. 

"  Come  on,"  said  Alf  suddenly.  "  Train's  start- 
ing." 


EUSTACE  BLUNDERS  AGAIN        135' 

"  No  'urry,"  Bill  grunted  placidly.  He  got  up, 
stretched  himself  and  trotted  leisurely  along  the 
train  till  he  came  to  his  own  carriage,  and  swung 
himself  in. 

" 'Ow  about  another  bet?"  said  the  gunner  as 
they  appeared.  "  A  franc  we  don't  pass  that  church 
over  there  this  spasm." 

"  Righto.  But  you'll  win  —  it  must  be  'arf-a- 
mile  from  'ere." 

"  Well,  if  we're  goin'  to  get  to  Blighty  at  all  this 
week  we'll  'ave  to  do  a  'arf-mile  stretch  now  an' 
again,  you  know." 

But  Bill's  prophecy  proved  correct.  Long  before 
the  church  was  reached  he  had  handed  back  his 
newly-won  franc  to  the  gunner  and,  in  sheer  irritable 
restlessness,  insisted  on  the  somnolent  Alf  leaving 
the  train  once  more. 

"  What  makes  me  sick,"  he  said,  "  is  to  think  of 
that  'ouse  in  Blighty  all  ready  an'  waitin'  for  us, 
an'  beer  an'  drinks,  an'  'ere  we  are  as  dry  as  a  bone 
in  a  'owlin'  French  desert." 

"  Tell  you  what,  then,"  answered  Alf,  struck  with 
an  idea.  "  What's  to  prevent  us  slippin'  away  be'ind 
that  bridge  an'  lettin'  the  train  go  on  without  us?  " 

"  An'  tell  Eustace  to  ...  Lumme,  you  must 
be  wakin'  up,  Alf.  WThy,  it'll  mean  us  'avin'  about 
three  days  extra  leave.  Come  on!  " 

They  strolled  casually  along  the  line  without 
exciting  comment  or  interest  on  the  part  of  their 
fellow-travelers  scattered  about  the  line,  and  when 


136  ALFS  BUTTON 

the  train  started  these  were  much  too  busily  occupied 
in  scrambling  back  to  their  own  places  to  notice  that 
two  of  their  number  had  unostentatiously  slipped 
behind  a  culvert.  The  train  puffed  off  busily;  after 
it  had  gone  a  hundred  yards  or  'so  a  head  appeared 
at  one  of  the  windows. 

"  Keep  down,"  cried  Bill.  "  It's  the  gunner  — 
wonder  what  'e'll  do  with  our  kits?" 

The  question  was  hardly  out  of  his  mouth  before 
it  was  answered.  The  gunner  —  obviously  a 
creature  of  impulse  —  was  seen  to  push  the  two 
packs  and  rifles  of  his  late  companions  out  of  the 
window  of  the  train. 

"  Nice  fool  Vd  'ave  looked  if  we'd  been  on  the 
train  arter  all,  in  another  carriage,"  said  Bill. 
"  Still,  p'raps  it's  just  as  well  to  'ave  the  things. 
Now  for  Blighty." 

Alf  removed  the  black  covering  which  still 
shrouded  his  talisman. 

"  Better  wait  till  the  train's  out  o'  sight,"  said 
Bill.  "  She  seems  to  be  gettin'  really  started  at 
last.  .  .  I  s'pose  there'll  be  plenty  o'  beer  in  your 
new  'ouse?  " 

"  If  there  ain't  we'll  jolly  soon  'ave  some.  Tell 
you  what,  Bill:  'Ow'd  it  be  to  'ave  one  room  in 
the  'ouse  rigged  up  as  a  bar.  We  c'd  'ave  proper 
sanded  floors,  an'  a  barmaid,  an' —  an'  no  closing 
time.  Just  for  you  an'  me,  so's  we  could  'ave  a 
drink  any  ole  time.  Make  it  seem  more  'omelike, 
wouldn't  it?" 


EUSTACE  BLUNDERS  AGAIN        137 

Bill  stared  at  him  in  hopeless  disgust. 

"An'  I  thought  you  was  beginnin'  to  think!  "  he 
said.  "  This  fair  takes  the  biscuit.  What  low 
ideas  you  do  'ave !  Why  whatever'd  the  wife  think, 
an'  your  swell  neighbors?  You'll  'ave  to  be'ave  like 
a  gentleman,  you  know,  when  you  marries  a  lady." 

"  'Ow'm  I  goin'  to  do  that?  " 

"  I'll  teach  yer.     You  trust  me." 

"You!     An'  W  d'you  know?" 

"  I  do  know.  It's  easy  enough.  Never  you  fear, 
I'll  look  after  you." 

Alf,  looking  a  little  skeptical,  »eturned  to  the  sub- 
ject nearest  his  heart. 

"  Well,  then,  when'll  I  be  able  to  get  a  drink 
when  I'm  a  gentleman?  " 

"  Why,  you  can  'ave  'em  all  day  long.  You  sits 
in  one  easy  chair  an'  me  in  -another,  an'  a  footman 
brings  us  whatever  we  wants." 

"  Lumme  !     A  footman?  " 

"  O'  course.  An'  then,  in  the  evenin',  we  'as  a 
reg'lar  slap-up  spread  every  day  of  our  lives,  with 
your  missus  in  laces  an'  diamonds:  an'  then  when 
she's  finished  'er  supper  she  goes  off  an'  leaves  us 
to  finish  the  drinks." 

"  'Ow  d'you  know  she  will?  " 

"  They  always  does.  'Aven't  you  been  to  no 
plays,  nor  read  no  books?  Lucky  you'll  'ave  me  to 
keep  you  straight.  'Ullo,  the  ale  train's  pretty 
near  out  o'  sight  now.  'Adn't  we  better.  .  .?" 

Alf,  his  hand  shaking  excitedly,  rubbed  his  Button. 


138  ALPS  BUTTON 

Eustace  appeared. 

"That  'ouse,"  said  Alf.  "It's  still  all  right 
about  that,  I  s'pose?  " 

"  Master,"  answered  the  djinn,  "  for  a  week  past 
it  hath  been  prepared  for  thine  entry.  Say  but  the 
word  and  I  will  transport  thee  thither." 

"  Right.  Me  an'  Mr.  Grant's  quite  ready  now. 
On'y  just  get  our  kits  an'  rifles  off  the  side  o'  the 
line  first." 

"  'Ome,  John!  "  added  Bill  facetiously. 

Eustace  advanced  upon  them  and  they  closed 
their  eyes  involuntarily.  As  before,  nothing  seemed 
to  happen  to  them;  and  yet,  when  they  opened 
their  eyes  again  they  were  standing  on  the  carriage 
sweep  before  the  front  door  of  an  imposing  country- 
house  built  of  gray  stone,  overgrown  for  the  most 
part  with  ivy  and  Virginia  creeper.  The  building 
seemed  to  them  vast  —  immense.  It  was  long  and 
low,  and  covered  a  great  deal  of  space.  They 
gazed  about  them  hurriedly,  and  received  an  impres- 
sion of  great  trees  and  smooth-shaven  lawns,  orna- 
mental waters  and  flagged  paths. 

Alf  gazed  about  him  in  awe. 

"  What  do  we  do  next?  "  he  asked  in  a  whisper. 

"  Ring  the  bell,"  answered  Bill.     "  It's  yours." 

Alf  advanced  timidly  up  the  steps,  but  recoiled  in 
alarm  as  the  door  opened  unexpectedly.  It  dis- 
closed an  Eastern  personage  whose  clothes  were  stiff 
with  gold  and  dazzling  with  gems;  bowing  low,  he 
took  both  Alf  and  Bill  respectfully  by  the  hand  and 


EUSTACE  BLUNDERS  AGAIN        139 

led  them  through  the  doorway.  Here  the  personage 
with  another  deep  obeisance  stood  aside  and 
motioned  to  them  to  precede  him. 

They  crossed  the  vestibule  towards  the  great  hall 
which  formed  the  center  of  the  building,  realizing 
that  the  whole  house  was  one  glittering  mass  of 
shifting  barbaric  color.  In  the  hall  itself  stood 
slaves  in  ordered  ranks,  black  and  white,  male  and 
female,  each  attired  with  magnificence  only  one 
degree  less  than  that  of  the  personage  who  had 
received  them.  The  whole  crowd  stood  waiting, 
silent  and  motionless,  for  their  new  master  to  appear. 

Bill  came  first.  He  sauntered  easily  into  the  hall 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  —  that  is,  as  easily  as 
is  possible  on  mosaic  pavement  to  one  wearing 
ammunition  boots  —  and  stood  looking  about  him 
in  a  silence  in  which  a  pin's  fall  would  have  caused 
a  reverberating  crash;  then  Alf,  who  had  been 
wrestling  with  a  demon  of  shyness  in  the  darkness  of 
the  vestibule,  clattered  sheepishly  across  the  thresh- 
old. 

In  that  instant  the  silence  was  shattered  into  a 
million  pieces.  Seven  bands  of  weird  and  piercing 
oriental  instruments  came  simultaneously  into  action 
in  seven  different  keys  and,  so  far  as  could  be  dis- 
cerned above  the  frenzied  beating  of  tambours,  play- 
ing seven  different  tunes.  Such  of  the  gathering  as 
had  no  instruments  contributed  to  the  joyful  effect 
by  shrieking  and  howling  at  the  tops  of  their  voices. 

Alf  —  already  awed  by  his  surroundings  —  was 


140  ALFS  BUTTON 

quite  overwhelmed  by  this  demonstration.  For  one 
moment  he  seemed  to  contemplate  flight;  then,  pull- 
ing himself  together,  he  sought  the  side  of  his  mate. 

Bill  turned  towards  him  and  shouted  something, 
but  it  was  utterly  lost  in  the  hideous  din. 

"  Can't  'ear !  "  bellowed  Alf ,  and  shook  his  head 
in  confirmation. 

Bill's  mouth  opened  and  shut  in  a  frenzied  man- 
ner, and  his  face  turned  purple.  He  was  utterly 
inaudible.  At  last,  encircling  Alf's  ear  with  his  two 
hands  and  using  them  as  a  trumpet,  he  bawled 
with  the  full  force  of  his  lungs: 

"STOP  IT!" 

Alf  leapt  away  as  if  he  had  been  shot  and  began 
to  massage  his  ear  tenderly.  His  lips  moved 
fervently,  and  his  eyes  held  bitter  reproach.  The 
joyous  din  of  welcome  continued  and  swelled.  For- 
getting his  injury  Alf  bawled  back  in  the  same  way : 

"'Ow?" 

"  EUSTACE  !  "  returned  Bill  impatiently. 

Alf's  fingers  flew  to  his  Button;  in  the  mental 
paralysis  caused  by  the  awful  din  he  had  forgotten 
the  djinn;  but  the  instant  his  fingers  touched  the 
talisman  every  sound  ceased.  It  did  not  die  away; 
it  ended  suddenly,  as  though  a  giant  had  stopped 
his  gigantic  gramophone  in  the  midst  of  a  bar.  At 
the  same  moment  the  entire  assembly,  even  to  the 
magnificent  major-domo  behind  them  in  the  vestibule, 
fell  forward  on  its  face  and  remained  motionless. 
Alf  and  Bill  —  to  whom,  after  three  years  at  the 


EUSTACE  BLUNDERS  AGAIN        141 

front,  it  was  second  nature  to  take  cover  whenever 
their  neighbors  did  so  without  asking  questions  — 
groveled  likewise  for  a  moment.  Then  they  rose 
sheepishly  and  stared  about  them  in  astonishment. 
Not  a  sound  or  a  movement  came  from  the  assembly. 
Then  Alf,  whose  fingers  had  paused  involuntarily 
when  the  noise  shut  off,  rubbed  -the  Button  and  the 
djinn  appeared. 

"  'Ere,  Eustace,"  said  Alf  with  some  heat,  "  what 
was  all  that  blinkin'  noise  about,  eh?  We  can't  'ear 
ourselves  think." 

"  Lord,"  said  the  djinn  in  pained  surprise,  "  this 
was  a  concert  of  music  in  thine  honor  such  as 
delighted  the  ear  of  the  great  Caliph  Haroun 
Alraschid." 

"Aaron  'oo?  Never  'card  of  the  bloke,  but  'e 
must  'ave  'ad  a  queer  taste  in  music.  Any'ow 
there's  no  need  to  kick  up  such  a  blinkin'  row  about 
it.  Very  nice  of  you  an'  all  that,  but  you're  bein' 
too  'olesale  again.  My  ears  is  singin'  now  —  let 
alone  Mr.  Grant  'avin'  near  busted  me  ear-drum." 
He  caressed  his  injured  member  again. 

Eustace,  who  only  half  comprehended  this 
harangue,  but  gathered  that  his  unaccountable  master 
was  once  more  finding  unexpected  faults  in  his 
arrangements,  said  nothing. 

"  Look  'ere,  Alf,"  suggested  Bill  suddenly, 
"  'adn't  you  better  let  some  o'  these  pore  blighters 
get  up?  The  blood'll  be  running  into  their  'eads 
something  'orrid." 


142  ALF'S  BUTTON 

Alf  addressed  himself  to  the  prostrate  crowds. 
"  'Ere,"  he  said  in  diffident  tones,  "  you  can  get  up 
now."  Not  a  soul  moved. 

"  Squad!  "  said  Bill  loudly,  in  the  formula  sacred 
to  the  use  of  the  army  instructor  in  physical  training. 
"  On  the  feet  — UP!" 

The  assembly  remained  prostrate. 

"  The  blinkin'  'eathens  don't  understand  English, 
that's  what  it  is,"  said  Alf  with  sudden  enlighten- 
ment. "  You  tell  'em,  Eustace." 

The  djinn  uttered  one  guttural,  staccato  syllable. 
In  a  moment  the  multi-colored  crowd  had  melted 
away,  and  the  great  house  began  to  hum  with  life. 
In  every  direction  slaves  could  be  seen,  each 
engrossed  in  his  or  her  duties.  Alf,  master  of  all 
he  surveyed,  felt  for  the  first  time  the  full  weight 
of  his  responsibilities. 

"  I  say,  Eustace,"  he  said  querulously,  "  'ow  the 
'ell  am  I  goin'  to  look  after  a  lot  o'  niggers  as  don't 
understand  a  word  I  says  to  'em?  Can't  you  get 
me  an  English  'ousemaid  or  two?  " 

"  Can't  be  got,"  said  Bill.  "  I  read  it  in  a  paper 
t'other  day.  They  called  it  the  Servant  Problem. 
You  be  thankful  you've  got  these.  An'  very  nice 
too !  "  he  finished,  his  eyes  on  two  langorous-eyed 
maidens  in  brilliant  draperies  who  were  descending 
the  stairs. 

"  Lord,"  said  Eustace,  "  none  are  there  of  thy 
speech  among  the  slaves  of  the  Button.  But  thy 
steward  " — -he  indicated  the  personage  who  had  wel- 


EUSTACE  BLUNDERS  AGAIN       143 

corned  them,  now  waiting  patiently  till  he  should  be 
required  again  — "  he  is  skilled  in  thy  tongue,  and 
through  him  will  these  thy  servants  perform  all 
thy  will.  His  name  is  Mustapha." 

Eustace  disappeared. 

"Phew!"  said  Bill,  looking  about  him.  "All 
gold,  an'  silk,  an'  marble !  Looks  more  like  one  o' 
them  pantomime  scenes  than  a  real  'ouse,  don't  it? 
An'  all  them  niggers,  an'  the  girls  an'  all.  An' 
'im!" 

He  indicated  once  more  the  major-domo. 

"  Ain't  much  furniture  about,  is  there?  "  said  Alf 
after  a  pause.  "  Only  sofas  an'  things." 

"  No.  That's  Eustace  an'  'is  old-fashioned  ideas. 
Don't  matter,  though.  Anything  we  want  later  on 
we  can  send  'im  for.  What  I  want  now's  a  drink. 
Tell  'im." 

"  What  did  Eustace  say  'is  name  was?  " 

"  Mr.  Farr,  I  think.  Something  like  that.  Call 
'im  an'  see  if  'e  answers." 

The  major-domo  did  answer.  Before  long  the 
two  warriors  were  slaking  their  mighty  thirst  with 
real  beer.  Eustace  might  be  slow  to  learn,  but  he 
seldom  forgot  a  lesson. 

"Ah!"  said  Bill,  smacking  his  lips.  "Now,  I 
begin  to  feel  something  like.  What's  the  next 
move?-  Farr  'ere  seems  to  'ave  something  on  his 
mind.  What's  up  with  you?  Speak  up." 

Mustapha,  with  another  obeisance,  spoke  up. 

"  If  my  lord  permits,  thy  slaves  await  thee  that 
they  may  bathe  thee  and  change  thy  traveling-dress 


144  ALPS  BUTTON 

for  a  garment  better  befitting  thy  state.  After 
this  there  is  prepared  for  thee  a  banquet." 

"  Civvy  clothes?  That's  a  bright  idea  o'  yours," 
replied  Bill  condescendingly.  "  Of  course  we  can't 
go  on  wearing  these  'ere  things.  We'll  'ave 
another  drink  —  a  long  'un,  Farr,  an'  a  strong  'un 
—  an'  then  you  can  do  what  you  like." 

"  While  I  think  of  it,"  said  Alf,  "  p'raps  I'd 
better  take  the  Button  off  me  tunic;  then  it  can't 
get  lost." 

He  suited  the  action  to  the  word,  and  threaded 
'the  talisman  on  to  the  cord  which  hung  round  his 
neck  and  supported  his  two  identity  disks. 

The  drink  was  brought.  This  time  it  was  not 
beer,  but  some  far  more  potent  liquid.  Its  immedi- 
ate effect  on  Bill  was  to  stimulate  his  imagination. 

"  What's  your  name  goin'  to  be,  Alf?  "  he  asked 
suddenly  after  the  first  draught.  "  I'm  goin'  to  be 
Mr.  Montmorency." 

"Why?" 

"  Well,  you  don't  want  anybody  recognizing  us,  do 
you?  If  this  girl  o'  yours  knows  you're  Private 
Alf  'Iggins  of  'Ackney  she'll  never  look  at  you.  But 
if  you  shaves  off  yer  mustache  and  calls  yerself 
Wentworth,  and  dresses  yerself  like  a  gentleman  — 
what  ho,  how  about  it?  " 

"  You  are  a  one,"  said  Alf  admiringly,  wiping  his 
lips  and  then  his  eyes.  "  You  think  of  everything. 
This  stuff  don't  'arf  tickle  you  up,  do  it?  What 
about  you?  You  'aven't  got  a  mustache  to  shave 
off.  Will  you  'ave  a  false  one?  " 


EUSTACE  BLUNDERS  AGAIN       145 

"  Eh  ?     Oh,  I  don't  marrer,"  said  Bill  thickly. 

The  effects  of  the  drink  —  whatever  it  was  — 
were  now  the  reverse  of  stimulating.  They  were 
swift  and  complete.  When  Mustapha  entered  a 
moment  later  his  lord  and  his  lord's  companion  were 
side  by  side  on  the  floor  in  stertorous  slumber.  At 
his  command  a  party  of  slaves  entered  and  carried 
the  recumbent  forms  reverently  upstairs. 

Next  morning  Alf  was  awakened  by  the  sun  shin- 
ing through  the  latticed  windows  and  falling  in 
brightly  colored  patches  across  his  room.  Wher- 
ever the  light  struck  there  was  a  glitter  almost  un- 
bearable to  his  heavy  eyes.  He  was  lying  in  a  bed  of 
wonderful  softness  in  a  lofty  chamber  in  which  every- 
thing about  him  gave  the  impression  of  sumptuous- 
ness  and  luxury.  Where  the  sunlight  struck  his 
coverlit  it  shimmered  and  shone  and  twinkled  till 
he  was  completely  dazzled.  It  was  made  of  cloth 
of  gold  thickly  sewn  with  diamonds  and  pearls. 

He  gazed  about  with  an  idiotic  expression,  for  his 
intellect  was  still  in  abeyance;  and  he  tried  without 
much  success  to  remember  where  he  was  and  how 
he  got  there.  He  could  recall  nothing  clearly  since 
he  had  fallen  asleep  in  the  great  hall,  still  in  his 
worn  khaki  with  the  dust  of  France  upon  him.  He 
knew  in  a  dim  way  that  much  had  happened  to  him 
since  then.  There  were  various  hazy  recollections 
in  his  mind:  of  a  bath,  warm  and  scented,  wherein  he 
had  lain  at  ease  while  other  hands  than  his  had 
cleansed  him;  of  being  clothed  in  garments  more 


146  ALFS  BUTTON 

gorgeous  than  his  imagination  could  have  conceived, 
and  of  reclining  with  Bill  (no  less  gorgeously  clad 
than  himself)  on  a  divan  where  strange  foods  had 
been  brought  to  them  by  lustrous-eyed  girls;  of 
listening  to  weird  music  and  witnessing  queer,  sinu- 
ous dances.  Lying  here  this  morning  he  could  not 
say  whether  these  things  had  really  happened  or 
whether  he  had  dreamed  them.  Only  he  knew  that 
the  effort  to  think  made  his  head  ache,  and  that  judg- 
ing by  his  general  condition  he  must  have  had  a 
remarkably  "  thick  "  night. 

He  closed  his  eyes  and  dozed  uneasily,  but  was 
soon  awakened  by  the  sound  of  stealthy  footsteps 
and  the  swish  of  silken  draperies.  He  half  opened 
his  eyes,  and,  glancing  cautiously  under  lowered  lids 
saw  that  his  room  was  gradually  filling  with  people 
whose  one  care  seemed  to  be  to  avoid  waking  him. 
They  disposed  themselves  round  the  chamber  in 
some  kind  of  settled  order  and,  with  eyes  fixed  on 
his  recumbent  form,  stood  waiting.  Alf,  still  won- 
dering what  this  might  mean,  suddenly  noticed  that 
quite  half  of  his  unexpected  visitors  were  women  — 
just  such  women  as  haunted  his  hazy  recollections  of 
the  night  before. 

Shocked  to  the  depths  of  his  respectable  soul,  Alf 
opened  his  eyes  and  sat  up.  Instantly  the  entire 
assemblage  prostrated  themselves  —  except  some  of 
the  women,  who,  Alf  saw  with  horror,  carried  musi- 
cal instruments  and  displayed  every  sign  of  being 
about  to  play  upon  them. 

Alf  clutched  his  aching  head. 


EUSTACE  BLUNDERS  AGAIN        147 

"No,  no!"  he  shouted  imploringly.  "Stop  it. 
Farr  —  Mr.  Farr!  Take  'em  away!" 

"  Lord,"  said  Mustapha,  entering  and  bowing 
gravely.  "  I  am  here." 

"  Turn  them  shameless  'ussies  out  o'  my  room. 
What  are  they  doin1  'ere?  I  never  'card  o'  such 
goin's  on.  " 

"  Verily,  Lord,  they  are  the  ladies  of  thy  house- 
hold, whose  duty  it  is  to  be  present  at  thy  levee. 
And  these  others  are  ladies  skilled  in  music,  who  are 
about  to  wish  thee  good-morrow  with  a  concert  of 
soft  sounds." 

"  Not  if  I  know  it  —  not  while  I've  got  a  'ead  on 
me  like  this,  any'ow.  Clear  'em  all  out,  every  last 
one  of  'em  —  men  as  well." 

Mustapha  said  a  few  words  to  the  concourse, 
which  went  away  saying  no  word  but  looking  very 
much  astonished. 

"  An'  now,"  said  Alf,  "  where's  me  clothes?  " 

"  Lord,  they  are  here."  Mustapha  indicated  a 
magnificent  garment  which  was  lying  with  a  jeweled 
turban  on  a  cushion  at  the  side  of  the  bed. 

"  Clothes,  I  said,"  remarked  Alf  caustically,  "  not 
a  blinkin'  dressing-gown  —  what's  that?" 

"  That  "  was  a  bull-like  roar  in  the  distance,  which 
repeated  itself  over  and  over  again  until  it  at  last 
resolved  itself  into  a  call  for  "  Alf." 

"  'Ere,  Bill,"  bellowed  Alf  in  return. 

"Oh!  'Ere  you  are,"  said  the  newly-christened 
Mr.  Montmorency  in  wrathful  tones  as  he  entered. 
"  Every  room  I  go  into  seems  to  be  full  o'  women. 


148  ALF'S  BUTTON 

'Ere,  what  d'you  think  o'  this?  "  He  displayed  the 
garment  he  was  wearing — a  voluminous  coat  of 
some  rich  shimmering  stuff.  "  Pinched  me  clothes, 
they  'ave,  an'  left  me  this  .  .  .  this.  .  .  ." 

Words  failed  him. 

"  An'  a  pair  o'  pink  satin  trousers,"  he  concluded 
with  heat.  "  What's  the  game?  " 

"  Dunno.  Same  'ere,"  answered  Alf.  "  Look 
'ere,  Farr,  don't  you  start  no  funny  jokes  with  us. 
Clear  this  mess  away  an'  bring  us  some  proper  civvy 
clothes." 

"  Same  as  what  a  gentleman  'ud  wear,"  added 
Bill.  "  Pot  'at,  an'  gloves,  an'  spats,  an' —  an'  so  on. 
An'  'urry  up." 

"  But,  Lord,"  protested  Mustapha,  "  these  are 
garments  of  the  greatest  magnificence,  such  as  the 
great  Caliph  Haroun  Alraschid  delighted  to 
wear.  .  .  ." 

"  All  right,  take  'em  to  'im.  'E  can  'ave  'em,  for 
all  I  care.  Look  'ere,  'ave  you  got  any  ordinary 
clothes  or  not?  " 

"  Suits  less  magnificent  have  I  many,  O  Master. 
But  as  for  the  hat  called  pot,  or  the  spat,  I  have  no 
knowledge  of  such.  Nevertheless  .  .  ." 

tp  I  see  what  it  is,"  said  Alf  disgustedly.  "  It's 
just  Eustace.  'E's  mucked  it  again.  We'll  just 
'ave  to  send  for  'im  an'  tell  'im  what  sort  of  a  rig-out 
we  want.  Pity  'e  can't  never  get  nothing  right  the 
first  time,  ain't  it?  " 

He  sat  down  on  his  diamond-studded  coverlet  and 
once  again  summoned  his  sorely  tried  familiar. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  VICAR'S  WIFE  OUTRAGED 

WELL,  Julian,"  said  Mrs.  Davies  in  her  most 
determined  tones.  "  I  think  it's  your  plain 
duty  to  call  at  once." 

The  Vicar  of  Denmore  sighed,  and  laid  down  his 
paper  on  the  breakfast-table. 

"  But,  my  dear,"  he  protested  mildly,  "  we  know 
nothing  of  the  new  people  at  the  Manor.  We  don't 
even  know  if  they  have  taken  possession.  If  it  is 
true  that  extensive  alterations  are  going  on,  they 
can  hardly  be  there  yet.  Why,  it's  only  a  week 
since  they  took  the  place." 

"  Julian,"  returned  his  wife,  "  there  is  no  use  in 
arguing  the  point.  It's  quite  time  that  all  the 
mystery  about  the  Manor  was  cleared  up.  You 
know  I  hate  gossip.  .  .  ." 

She  paused.     The  vicar  took  a  drink  of  coffee. 

"  You  know,"  resumed  Mrs.  Davies  very  dis- 
tinctly, "  that  I  hate  gossip.  .  .  ." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,  my  dear,"  •  agreed  the 
vicar  hastily. 

"  But  it  is  impossible  not  to  know  that  the  whole 
neighborhood  is  talking.  I'm  not  asking  you  to  pay 
a  ceremonious  call.  If  the  people  turn  out  to  be 
German  spies.  .  .  .  The  feeling  of  everybody  is 
that  the  sooner  somebody  finds  out  just  what  is 

149 


150  ALFS  BUTTON 

happening  at  the  Manor,  the  better.  And  you've 
got  the  best  excuse." 

Mr.  Davies  got  up  and  walked  about  the  room. 

"  Really,  my  dear,"-  he  said  at  last  in  what  was 
(for  him)  quite  a  fierce  tone,  "  if  you're  asking  me 
to  do  this  out  of  mere  idle  curiosity  .  .  ." 

"Idle  fiddlesticks!  Do  remember  there's  a  war 
on,  Julian.  When  a  great  big  house  like  that  sud- 
denly becomes  full  of  people  from  nobody  knows 
where,  who  never  seem  to  come  out  of  the  grounds, 
and  who  certainly  don't  deal  with  the  local  trades- 
men, what  is  one  to  think?" 

"  That  they  import  their  provisions  from  Lon- 
don," suggested  the  vicar. 

"  But  they  don't.  The  only  London  van  that 
comes  here  is  Harrods' —  the  FitzPeters  deal  there, 
but  I  know  they  don't  call  at  the  Manor." 

"  Did  Miss  FitzPeter  tell  you  that?" 

"  No.  She  doesn't  seem  very  interested  in  the 
concerns  of  the  village.  She  could  or  would  tell  me 
nothing.  .  .  .  But  I  stopped  Harrods'  van  in  the 
village  and  asked  the  driver.  The  whole  business 
is  most  suspicious.  So  we  think  —  I  think  that  it's 
quite  time  you  went  up  to  the  Manor  and  found  out 
whether  they're  going  to  use  the  Manor  pew." 

The  vicar  sighed  deeply. 

"  Very  well,  my  dear,"  he  said  with  resignation. 
"  Since  you  insist.  But  I  fear  my  talents  do  not  lie 
very  much  in  the  direction  of  private  detection. 
What  is  the  nature  of  the  gos  .  .  .  the  —  er  — 
tales  that  are  going  about  in  the  village?  " 


THE  VICAR'S  WIFE  OUTRAGED     151 

"  Oh,  just  vague  and  exaggerated  rumors.  You 
see,  nobody  has  been  allowed  inside  the  grounds  at 
all.  There  haven't  even  been  any  letters  for  the 
people  yet.  I  was  at  the  post-office  yesterday  and 
Mrs.  Rudd  was  most  aggrieved  about  it.  Of  course 
everybody  thinks  they're  spies,  or  horrible  plotters, 
or  something.  Otherwise,  why  should  they  behave 
like  this?  Bobby  Myers  says  that  he  and  another 
boy  climbed  over  the  fence  and  saw  a  lot  of  black 
men  in  the  garden,  but  that  I  do  not  believe.  I 
have  seldom  found  Bobby  truthful." 

"  I  fully  expect  that  I  shall  find  something  in  the 
nature  of  a  mare's  nest,"  said  the  vicar.  "  But  per- 
haps I  can  do  some  good  by  reminding  these  people 
that  a  village  is  always  a  hotbed  of — that  is,  that 
people  will  talk,  and  that  .  .  ."  He  broke  off, 
realizing  that  to  express  tactfully  just  what  he 
wanted  to  say  was  beyond  his  power.  "  All  the 
same,"  he  finished,  "  if  there  is  anything  wrong,  I  am 
afraid  that  so  very  shortsighted  an  emissary  as  I  will 
prove  of  little  use." 

"  Never  mind  about  that,  Julian.  I  shall  do  all 
that  part  of  it  —  as  if  I  could  trust  you!  You  are 
just  my  excuse,  that's  all." 

"  But,  my  dear,  is  it  quite  usual  ...    ?  " 

Mrs.  Davies  snorted. 

"  Is  it  usual  to  shut  oneself  up  as  these  people  are 
doing  —  especially  in  war-time?  Anyhow,  usual  or 
not,  I'm  going.  For  a  whole  week  there's  been 
something  mysterious  going  on  in  that  house  and  I 
mean  to  find  out  what  it  is  before  anything  dreadful 


152  ALPS  BUTTON 

comes  of  it.  I'll  be  ready  soon  after  lunch, 
Julian." 

Later  in  the  day  the  reluctant  clergyman  and  his 
far  from  reluctant  wife  turned  in  at  the  drive  gates 
of  Denmore  Manor.  They  walked  along  the  thick 
and  somber  avenue,  at  the  end  of  which  the  trees 
suddenly  ceased  altogether  and  the  drive  gave  a 
half-turn  before  sweeping  on  to  the  house.  There 
was  no  one  visible  except  a  far-away  gardener,  of 
whom  so  little  could  be  seen  that  it  was  quite  impossi- 
ble to  judge  whether  he  were  a  suspicious-looking 
character  or  not.  The  visitors  looked  round  them 
at  the  smooth,  green  lawns  and  the  riot  of  flowers, 
and  the  vicar  sighed  once  more  —  this  time  in  con- 
tent. 

"  I  should  like  to  know,"  observed  his  wife  with 
asperity,  "  how  many  men  of  military  age  it  took  to 
do  this  in  a  week?  Why,  the  place  was  a  wilder- 
ness. It  had  not  been  looked  after  for  two  years, 
and  even  in  peace-time  it  took  a  small  army  to  look 
after  it.  However,  I  suppose  you  can  get  things 
done  even  in  war-time  if  you're  rich  enough  and 
unpatriotic  enough." 

She  marched  resolutely  up  the  steps,  evidently 
more  firmly  convinced  of  the  righteousness  of  her 
mission  than  ever,  and  paused  with  a  hand  on  the 
bell. 

"  All  the  windows  are  barred,"  she  commented 
darkly,  as  the  lattices  which  Eustace's  Eastern  taste 
had  brought  into  being  struck  her  questing  eye. 
"  Does  that  convey  nothing  to  you?  " 


THE  VICAR'S  WIFE  OUTRAGED     153 

The  vicar,  who  could  not  honestly  have  said  that 
it  conveyed  anything  very  sinister  to  him,  merely 
looked  uncomfortable.  Mrs.  Davies  pulled  the  bell- 
handle.  The  door  opened  with  embarrassing  sud- 
denness to  display  two  massive  negroes,  clad  in  uni- 
forms of  startling  brightness.  Inside  the  vestibule 
could  be  seen  the  magnificent  Mustapha. 

"My  goodness!"  said  Mrs.  Davies,  shrinking 
back  suddenly.  "  Blacks!!  Bobby  was  right." 

The  major-domo  bowed  low  and  with  a  gesture 
invited  them  to  enter;  but  the  lady,  who  distrusted 
"  blacks  "  fervently,  left  her  husband  to  reply. 

The  vicar  beamed  vaguely  in  the  direction  of  the 
doorway. 

"  Er — is  Mr. —  er  —  that  is,"  he  began  feebly. 

"  Enter,  O  Master,"  said  Mustapha,  leading 
the  way  inside,  "  thou  and  thy  woman  with 
thee." 

"  Woman,  indeed!  "  muttered  Mrs.  Davies  in  out- 
raged tones  as  she  followed  them.  "  Woman ! !  A 
black  .  .  ." 

"  My  dear,"  urged  the  vicar  in  an  earnest  under- 
tone. "  It's  probably  only  the  Eastern  way.  I  do 
not  suppose  he  means  any  disrespect." 

"  I  hope  not,  indeed.   .  .  .     Good  Heavens!  " 

The  newly  decorated  hall  had  burst  suddenly  on 
Mrs.  Davies'  vision,  and  her  injured  pride  was  for- 
gotten in  her  amazement  at  the  sight.  The  vicar, 
who  could  only  discern  a  blaze  of  color,  gazed  too. 
Mustapha  moved  majestically  across  the  hall  and 
disappeared  up  the  marble  staircase. 


154  ALFS  BUTTON 

"  Julian,"  demanded  Mrs.  Davies,  "  are  we 
dreaming?  What  has  happened?" 

The  vicar,  who  had  now  managed  to  focus  his 
myopic  eyes,  glanced  at  the  wall  opposite  the  front 
door,  and  gave  a  wail  of  anguish  and  horror. 

u  The  tapestry !  "  he  cried.  u  The  great  tapestry. 
They've  taken  it  down.  How  could  they?  " 

He  went  over  to  the  wall  where  once  the  tapestry 
had  been  and  gazed  forlornly  at  it  as  though  he 
hoped  by  some  occult  power  of  thought  concentration 
to  bring  it  back. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Davies  acidly,  "  they  are  at 
least  consistent.  You  could  hardly  expect  tapestries 
to  go  with  this  kind  of  thing."  She  was  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs,  examining  the  knob  of  the  heavily 
gilded  banisters.  It  was  studded  with  diamonds  and 
completed  with  an  enormous  ruby  worth  about  as 
much  as  the  house.  "  Terrible  pieces  of  glass  stuck 
about  everywhere.  Dreadful  sham  orientalism; 
why,  they've  even  had  that  fine  old  staircase  taken 
down  and  marble  put  in  instead.  It  looks  more  like 
a  second-class  restaurant  than  .  .  ."  She  wandered 
off  on  a  tour  of  inspection;  a  moment  later  her  voice 
was  angrily  upraised. 

"  What  do  you  want,  you  shameless  hussy?  How 
dare  you  touch  me?  Go  away.  Do  you  hear  me? 
Take  your  hands  off  me  and  go  away.  .  .  .  Let  me 
go,  woman.  .  .  .  Julian  !  Julian  ! !  " 

The  vicar  rushed  blindly  in  the  direction  of  his 
wife's  voice;  his  pince-nez  fell  off  and  flew  wildly  at 
the  end  of  their  cord.  He  stumbled  over  a  divan, 


THE  VICAR'S  WIFE  OUTRAGED     155 

slithered  across  the  marble  floor  and  stood,  panting 
and  peering,  at  his  wife's  side.  He  found  her, 
flushed  and  angry,  standing  at  bay  before  a  group  of 
lovely  and  perplexed  but  very  scantily  clad  female 
slaves,  who  had  approached  at  Mustapha's  com- 
mand to  conduct  her  to  the  women's  quarters  of  the 
house.  As  the  vicar  arrived,  the  leader  made 
another  attempt  to  take  Mrs.  Davies'  hand,  and 
received  from  the  angry  lady  a  stinging  smack 
across  the  face.  Instantly  she  and  her  following 
prostrated  themselves  on  the  floor. 

"  My  dear  Hermia !  "  murmured  the  vicar. 

"  Julian,"  returned  Mrs.  Davies  in  a  terrible 
voice,  "  this  is  no  place  for  me,  or  for  you  either. 
Take  me  home  at  once.  This  " —  she  eyed  the 
prostrate  but  shapely  forms  around  her,  and 
shuddered  — "  is  worse  than  I  could  have  imagined. 
I  insist  on  your  taking  me  home  at  once." 

"  But  really,  Hermia,"  said  the  vicar  mildly,  "  I 
am  sure  this  young  lady  .  .  .  perhaps  in  the  East 
.  .  ."  The  leader  of  the  slaves,  taking  heart  of 
grace  from  the  vicar's  gentle  tones,  was  rising  to 
her  feet;  but  meeting  a  glance  of  concentrated  venom 
from  his  wife,  she  flopped  back  once  more,  appalled. 

"  East,  indeed!  "  Mrs.  Davies  laughed  scornfully. 
"  Hussies  from  the  stage,  most  likely.  Of  course 
you'll  take  their  part,  Julian.  Men  are  all  alike.  I'm 
only  thankful  that  I  came  with  you  to  this  place." 

She  swung  round  to  depart  and  came  face  to  face 
with  Alf,  who  had  ventured  out  to  receive  his  first 
guests.  He  was  in  a  state  of  great  trepidation  which 


156  ALPS  BUTTON 

the  sound  of  Mrs.  Davies'  angry  high-pitched  voice 
did  nothing  to  allay.  It  was  a  transformed  Alf. 
He  had  compelled  Eustace  to  take  away  all  the  won- 
derful but  highly  unusual  garments  with  which  he 
had  stocked  his  master's  wardrobe,  and,  explaining 
once  more  to  his  familiar  how  useless  it  was  to  be 
wholesale  without  at  the  same  time  being  up-to-date, 
had  commanded  him  to  supply  instead  modern 
clothes  suited  to  every  requirement  of  his  new  posi- 
tion. He  now  appeared  resplendent  in  a  voluminous 
frock-coat,  gray  trousers,  a  stand-up  collar  of  inor- 
dinate height  and  patent  leather  shoes.  The  whole 
effect  was  completed  and  rounded  off  by  a  very 
shiny  top-hat. 

This  Alf  at  once  removed.  He  stood  nervously 
twisting  it  in  his  hands.  Mrs.  Davies,  not  knowing 
quite  what  to  make  of  him,  gave  him  a  menacing 
glare. 

"  Good  afternoon  !  "  she  said  in  threatening  tones. 

"  Yes  'm,"  said  Alf  feebly. 

"  You,  I  suppose,  are  the  butler.  Is  your  master 
in?" 

"  Yes  'm  .  .  .  I'm  .  .  .  that  is,  'e's  .  .  .  er, 
I'm  'im,"  was  the  lucid  reply.  It  conveyed  nothing 
whatever  to  the  lady.  The  vicar,  however,  who  had 
realized  from  the  top-hat  that  he  could  not  be  speak- 
ing to  a  butler,  rose  to  the  occasion. 

"  My  name  is  Davies,"  he  said  courteously.  "  Er 
—  my  wife  —  I  have  called  to  —  er  —  the  Manor 
pew  .  .  ." 

Alf,  feeling  a  shade  happier,  -put  his  hat  on  again. 


THE  VICAR'S  WIFE  OUTRAGED     157 

"  Sit  down,  sir,"  he  said.  "  Won't  the  lady  take 
a  chair  —  that  is  a  — •  ef  • —  cushion?  " 

"  I  will  not,"  snapped  Mrs.  Davies  fiercely.  "  I 
am  shocked  and  astonished  at  the  things  I  have  seen 
and  the  way  I  have  been  treated,  and  if  you  are 
responsible  I  demand  an  explanation,  Mr.  .  .  . 
Mr.  .  .  ." 

"  Ig  .  .  .  Wentworth,"  supplied  Alf,  remember- 
ing at  the  last  moment  his  change  of  name. 

Once  more  he  clutched  his  hat.  It  seemed  to 
afford  him  moral  support  in  dealing  with  this  terrify- 
ing lady,  and  he  clung  to  it  for  the  remainder  of  the 
interview. 

"  Really,  my  dear,  Mr.  Higg-Wentworth  can 
hardly  be  blamed  for  an  error  on  the  part  of  his 
...  er  ..." 

The  vicar's  eyes  rested  with  unclerical  apprecia- 
tion on  the  form  of  the  recently  smacked  leader  of 
the  slaves.  He  wondered  what  her  exact  status  in 
the  establishment  might  be.  Was  she  guest  or 
servant?  He  decided  not  to  risk  it.  "I  am  sure 
the  —  ah  —  young  lady  acted  under  a  pure  misap- 
prehension." 

His  wife  snorted. 

"  It  is  disgraceful,  and  their  clothing  is  nothing 
short  of  immodest.  Please  send  them  away  at 
once." 

Alf  gave  an  order  to  Mustapha,  who  translated 
it  into  Arabic.  The  slaves  rose  and  after  bowing 
low  to  Alf  disappeared  up  the  stairs  with  much 
swirling  of  draperies  and  jingling  of  anklets.  Mrs. 


158  ALPS  BUTTON 

Davies  averted  her  face,  but  the  vicar's  gaze  fol- 
lowed them  up  the  stairs  until  the  last  had  disap- 
peared. 

Alf  was  feverishly  anxious  to  make  things  right, 
and  he  turned  on  Mustapha. 

"  Look  'ere,  Farr,"  he  said  sternly,  "  what's  all 
this  mean?  Why  was  them  girls  bothering  this 
lady?" 

"  Lord,"  said  the  steward,  "  verily  it  was  sup- 
posed that  this  man  had  brought  the  woman  hither 
to  sell  her  unto  thee,  and  for  that  reason  .  .  ." 

"  WHAT  !  "  Mrs.  Davies'  voice  and  expression 
were  such  that  even  the  imperturbable  Mustapha 
broke  off  in  alarm.  Alf  stammered  out  something 
unintelligible,  but  was  cut  short. 

"  You  need  say  no  more.  I  have  heard  and  seen 
quite  enough.  I  am  ashamed  to  have  set  foot  in 
such  a  place  as  this  house  has  become.  Dreadful !  " 
She  swept  a  glance  of  regal  scorn  round  the  hall. 
"  Let  me  tell  you,  Mr.  Higg-Wentworth,  or  what- 
ever you  call  yourself,  that  you  have  not  heard  the 
last  of  this,  nor  those  shameless  undressed  hussies 
of  yours  either.  This  is  a  law-abiding  English  vil- 
lage, where  such  things  can  be  stopped  I  feel  sure. 
I  shall  go  straight  to  Sir  Edward  FitzPeter  and  see 
if  something  cannot  be  done.  Come,  Julian." 

She  stalked  out.  The  vicar,  perplexed  and 
unhappy  and  far  from  being  convinced  that  his  wife 
was  not  making  a  fool  of  herself,  followed. 

Alf  watched  them  out  of  sight,  wondering  miser- 
ably whether  it  was  still  too  late  to  do  something  to 


THE  VICAR'S  WIFE  OUTRAGED     159 

retrieve  the  situation;  then  as  Mrs.  Davies  disap- 
peared with  a  jerk  round  the  corner  of  the  drive,  he 
crammed  his  hat  down  on  to  his  head  with  fierce 
despair,  regardless  of  the  havoc  he  was  causing  to  its 
beautiful  nap,  and  wandered  dispiritedly  up  the 
stairs  to  Bill. 

That  warrior  was  far  from  being  dispirited.  He 
was  lying  on  a  divan  with  an  expression  of  utter 
content.  He  was  even  more  gayly  clad  than  Alf; 
but  he  was  now  taking  his  ease,  and  his  coat  was 
lying  neatly  folded  on  a  cushion  near  by,  revealing 
to  the  gaze  in  all  its  glory  a  waistcoat  which  would 
have  occupied  the  place  of  honor  at  any  exhibition  of 
futurist  art.  By  his  right  elbow  stood  a  tiny  inlaid 
table  on  which  was  a  foaming  flagon  of  beer.  At 
his  feet,  looking  like  a  brilliant,  shimmering  heap  of 
silk,  lay  yet  another  of  the  army  of  female  slaves. 
She  lay  in  an  attitude  of  sinuous  ease,  but  her  dark 
eyes  were  fixed  on  Bill's  face  with  something  of  the 
adoring  expression  of  a  faithful  dog. 

"  'Ullo,"  began  Mr.  Montmorency  (ne  Grant) 
with  a  cheerful  grin.  '  'Ere  you  are.  'Ave  a  drink 
with  me.  This  'ere  girl  " —  he  jerked  an  expressive 
thumb  at  his  attendant — "  she's  a  fair  wonder,  she 
is.  Mr.  Farr,  'e's  told  'er  off  special  to  look  after 
me,  an'  she  don't  'arf  take  a  pride  in  'er  work 
neither.  She  don't  understand  a  word  I  say,  but  it 
don't  matter.  She  just  fetches  me  another  every 
time  I  finish,  an'  seems  to  like  me  better  the  more  I 
make  'er  do.  Never  'ad  such  a  time  in  all  me  little 
life.  Lucy,  I  call  'er." 


160  ALPS  BUTTON 

"  Seems  fond  o'  you,"  said  Alf  gloomily. 

"  She  is  that.  Thinks  I'm  no  end  of  a  nut. 
Well,  'ow  did  you  get  on  with  the  nobility  an'  the 
gentry?  'Oo  was  it  came?  None  o'  your  girl's 
people,  I  s'pose." 

Alf  shook  his  head. 

"  That's  all  up,"  he  said.  "  None  of  'er  people 
won't  never  come  to  this  'ouse." 

"  Rats !  "  said  Bill.  "  Why,  we  ain't  been  'ere 
more'n  two  days,  any'ow,  an'  'ere's  somebody  been 
to  see  us  already.  Why,  it's  on'y  neighborly  for 
them  to  look  us  up.  'Oo  was  it  to-day,  any'ow?  " 

"  The  parson  and  'is  wife." 

"  Very  good,  for  a  start,"  commented  Bill. 

"  Tisn't  good  at  all,"  Alf  retorted  hotly.  "  I 
tell  you,  Bill  Grant  .  .  ." 

"  Montmorency,"  inserted  Bill  in  gentle  paren- 
thesis. 

44  ...     It's  all  up." 

"What's  all  up?" 

"  We  are.  This  place.  It  won't  do.  I've  — 
I've  mucked  it  all  up,  I  s'pose.  Comes  of  you  not 
bein'  there." 

"  That's  right.  Put  it  all  on  to  me !  I've  got  to 
trot  round  like  a  bloomin'  nursemaid,  'ave  I,  to  keep 
you  out  of  mischief.  What  'ave  you  been  an'  done, 
any'ow?  " 

"  This  'ere  parson's  wife,  she's  a  fair  terror. 
She  thinks  we  ain't  respectable,  an'  she's  off  to  get 
ole  Sir  FitzPeter  to  fire  us  out  of  'ere." 

11  'E  can't." 


THE  VICAR'S  WIFE  OUTRAGED     1611 

"  No,  but  it  knocks  the  bottom  out  o'  me  gettin' 
'is  daughter.  'Twasn't  much  of  a  chance  before,  but 
it's  all  up  now." 

Bill  considered. 

"  Why  don't  the  ole  girl  think  we're  respectable?  " 
he  asked  at  last. 

"  'Cause  of  the  blinkin'  silly  way  Eustace  'as  done 
the  place  up.  An'  she  saw  a  lot  o'  them  girls,  an' 
she  didn't  like  the  way  they  was  dressed." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  as  I'm  altogether  surprised 
at  that."  Bill's  eyes  rested  thoughtfully  on  Lucy's 
bare  leg,  ornamented  with  a  flashing  anklet. 
"  You  couldn't  'ardly  expect  it,  could  you?  But  we 
can  easy  change  that,  you  know.  It'll  mean  you 
'avin  Eustace  up  again,  but  after  all  that's  'is  look- 
out. 'E  ought  to  get  things  right  first  time.  If  'e 
won't,  'e  must  take  the  consequences.  You  can  'ave 
all  these  girls  dressed  in  nice  black  dresses,  an'  caps 
an'  aprons  —  except  my  Lucy  o'  course.  They 
won't  change  you,  will  they,  my  dear  ?  " 

He  stirred  Lucy  gently  with  his  foot,  and  she 
sprang  up  ready  to  perform  her  usual  task.  Find- 
ing her  master's  flagon  still  full,  she  sank  back  again 
into  her  place  with  a  puzzled  but  still  adoring  smile. 

"  What's  the  good  .  .  ."  began  Alf. 

"  An'  then,"  pursued  Bill,  taking  no  notice  what- 
ever of  the  interruption,  "  we'll  'ave  some  furniture 
in,  an'  about  time  too.  Then  what  can  the  parson's 
wife  'ave  to  say,  eh?  " 

"  But  what  .  .  ."  began  Alf. 

"  Mind   you,"    Bill   continued    serenely,    "  you'll 


162  ALPS  BUTTON 

'ave  to  tell  Eustace  just  exactly  what  you  want.  It's 
no  good  leaving  it  to  'im  —  we  know  'ow  much  good 
'is  ideas  are.  Tell  'im  what  you  wants  an'  see  you 
gets  it." 

"  Yes,  but  'ow  much  good  will  that  do?  The  ole 
woman's  gone  off  ravin'  like  a  blinkin'  lunatic,  an' 
once  she  gets  round  to  ole  Fitz  Peter  all  the  furniture 
in  the  world  won't  do  us  no  good.  'Ow  can  we  stop 
'er  tellin'  'im?" 

"  Easy  enough,"  said  Bill  with  unabated  confi- 
dence. "  Strike  'er  dumb!" 

"Eh?"  Alf's  eyes  and  mouth  opened  to  their 
utmost  extent. 

'  Tell  Eustace  to  make  'er  dumb.  Then  she 
cant  tell  anybody  anything." 

"  She  could  write  it,"  said  Alf,  after  consideration. 

"  Paralyze  'er,  then,"  retorted  Bill  callously. 

"  Even  then,  'er  'usband'd  know.  'Sides,  that 
ain't  goin'  to  do  us  no  good.  The  neighbor'ood  'ud 
be  bound  to  notice  it  if  she  came  'ere  an'  then  went 
dumb  an'  paralyzed  —  specially  if  we  'ad  to  do  it  to 
the  parson  too." 

"  True  for  you,  Alf  —  it  wouldn't  make  us  what 
you  might  call  popular." 

Bill  took  a  long  drink,  to  assist  thought.  The 
faithful  Lucy  uncurled  herself  once  more  and  left 
the  room  with  the  empty  flagon. 

"  Good  girl,"  said  Bill,  looking  after  her. 
"  She'd  make  a  fine  wife,  she  would.  I  ain't  goin'  to 
'ave  no  cap  an'  apron  put  on  my  Lucy,  Alf;  she  can 
keep  out  o'  the  way  when  there's  company  about,  but 


THE  VICAR'S  WIFE  OUTRAGED     163 

I'm  goin'   to   keep   'er   dressed  as   she   is,   see?" 

"  Seems  to  me,"  Alf  answered  crossly,  "  if  you 
don't  'urry  up  an'  think  what's  to  be  done,  you  an' 
your  Lucy'll  'ave  to  part  company  any'ow.  Once 
that  ole  woman  gets  to  Ditchwater  Park  she'll  make 
these  'ere  parts  too  'ot  to  'old  us.  An'  she  must 
be  'arf  way  there  by  now." 

Bill  gave  a  scornful  laugh. 

"  I'm  ashamed  of  you,  Alf,  gettin'  the  wind  up 
like  that.  I  am,  really.  Tell  you  what  to  do. 
Tell  Eustace  to  fix  'er  whenever  she  tries  to  talk  or 
write  about  us  —  she  an'  the  parson,  too.  Then  she 
can't  do  no  'arm  to  anybody!  'Ow's  that  for  a 
scheme,  eh?  " 

Bill  put  his  thumbs  in  the  armholes  of  his  pic- 
torial waistcoat;  Alf  stared  in  speechless  admira- 
tion. 

"  Lumme,"  he  said  at  last.  "  You  do  think  o' 
things.  But  'ow  d'you  know  that  Eustace  can  do 
it?" 

Bill  held  up  the  old  lady's  brother's  copy  of  the 
Arabian  Nights. 

"  I  been  readin'  this,"  he  said,  "  seems  to  be  just 
the  sort  o'  thing  they  used  to  like  doing  in  them 
times.  I  tell  you,  I'm  glad  it's  us  as  'ave  got 
Eustace  an'  not  the  'Un,  because  .  .  ." 

Fearing  that  Bill  was  about  to  bring  up  once 
more  his  favorite  scheme  for  using  Eustace  to  kid- 
nap the  Kaiser  and  end  the  war  Alf  cut  him  short  by 
producing  his  talisman.  Lucy,  entering  the  room 
at  the  same  moment  with  a  full  tankard  of  beer  for 


164  ALPS  BUTTON 

her  lord,  caught  sight  of  the  Button  and  instantly 
prostrated  herself.  The  tankard  reached  the 
ground  just  before  she  did,  with  the  result  that 
Lucy's  clothes  and  hair  and  Lucy's  devout  forehead 
weltered  in  a  foaming  pool  of  wasted  beer. 

Alf  gasped. 

"  Tripped  over  the  mat,  I  expect,"  he  volunteered 
feebly. 

"  You  silly  owl,"  roared  Bill,  exasperated  no  less 
by  the  discomfort  of  his  Hebe  than  by  the  waste  of 
his  drink.  "  Don't  you  know  yet  what  'appens  if 
you  bring  out  the  Button  in  front  of  the  servants? 
Down  they  goes  an'  down  they  stays.  Put  it  away, 
quick,  or  you'll  be  drownin'  the  girl.  'Ere,  Lucy, 
'op  it  an'  get  dried." 

Lucy,  dripping  with  beer,  fled,  and  Alf,  looking 
rather  sheepish,  once  again  produced  the  Button. 

He  hesitated. 

"  You  know,"  he  said,  "  I  'ardl«y  like  to  —  I  mean, 
we  'ad  Eustace  up  on'y  yesterday,  you  know.  If  we 
'ave  'im  again  now  won't  'e  be  fed  up?  " 

"  Let  'im,"  said  Bill.  "  S'long  as  you  don't  ask 
'im  for  a  rook's  egg,  'e  can't  turn  nasty.  An' 
any'ow  you've  got  to  'ave  'im  to  swop  the  furniture, 
so  'e  may  as  well  do  the  two  jobs  together.  And 
for  'eving's  sake  let's  'ave  a  few  tasty  pictures  on 
the  walls,  an'  some  ornaments  an'  things.  We  want 
to  make  the  place  a  bit  'omey." 

"  'Ave  whatever  you  like,"  replied  Alf.  "  You 
knows  more  about  that  sort  o'  thing  than  what  I 
do." 


THE  VICAR'S  WIFE  OUTRAGED     165 

He  rubbed  the  Button. 

Meanwhile,  as  the  vicar  and  his  wife  had  turned 
into  the  road  at  the  Manor  gates,  the  doctor's  gar- 
dener, one  Amos  Goodwin,  had  chanced  to  be 
passing. 

Amos  was  a  sociable  creature  who  measured  his 
success  in  life  by  the  amount  of  new  and  in  some 
cases  original  gossip  he  managed  to  put  into  circula- 
tion. He  was  the  most  prolific  purveyor  of  intimate 
domestic  scandal  in  the  neighborhood.  Certainly  he 
was  the  indispensable  right-hand  man  of  Mrs.  Rudd 
the  post-mistress,  supplying  her  with  the  material  on 
which  she  ran  an  informal  Bureau  of  Unreliable 
Information.  Amos  had  come  past  the  Manor  on 
the  off-chance  of  seeing  something  which  might  sug- 
gest a  plausible  theory  about  the  Manor  mystery; 
but  he  was  too  good  a  journalist  not  to  prefer  to  deal 
in  the  truth  when  he  could  get  it;  and  the  appearance 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Davies  actually  leaving  the  suspi- 
cious premises  held  promise  of  a  real  and  authentic 
"  scoop  " —  if  he  could  only  hear  what  they  were 
saying.  He  hobbled  after  the  pair  as  quickly  as  he 
could,  his  long  ear  straining  forward;  but  they 
swung  off  down  the  road  at  a  pace  that  his  rheumatic 
old  legs  could  not  hope  to  emulate.  All  the  same, 
he  had  his  reward;  before  she  was  out  of  earshot  he 
heard  Mrs.  Davies'  loud  and  piercing  voice,  remark- 
ing: 

"  Well,  Julian,  all  I  can  say  is  that  7  consider  the 
whole  place  a  perfect  scandal.  Those  black  men, 


i66  ALPS  BUTTON 

and  the  horrible  women  —  ugh  !  The  whole  place 
looked  more  like  a  scene  from  '  Chu  Chin  Chow ' 
than  an  English  country  house.  And  one  thing  I 
consider  most  suspicious.  .  .  ." 

Amos  could  hear  no  more.     But  on  his  way  home 
he  stopped  at  the  post  office. 


CHAPTER  XII 

ALF  RECEIVES 

THAT  evening  a  deep  peace  had  settled  over 
Dunwater  Park.  Except  for  two  people  sun- 
ning themselves  on  the  terrace,  all  the  inhabitants 
of  the  hospital  had  gone  to  the  tennis-court  or  the 
golf-links  or  the  river. 

"  Oh  dear,"  said  Isobel,  breaking  a  long  silence. 
"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  go  and  finish  the  day's  work 
before  dinner." 

"  Don't,"  urged  Denis  Allen  earnestly. 

"  But  duty  calls." 

"  Let  it.  And  if  you're  as  virtuous  as  all  that, 
please  note  that  it  is  your  duty  to  entertain  your 
guests  —  meaning  me.  Tell  me  the  —  I  say,  there's 
somebody  coming  across  the  lawn." 

"Help!"  Isobel  pulled  a  face.  "My  pet 
aversion." 

"  Of  course,"  grumbled  Allen  disconsolately, 
"  this  would  happen  the  very  first  time  I've  had  you 
to  myself."  He  sat  up  and  regarded  the  approach- 
ing couple  with  malevolence.  "  Which  is  your  — 
er, —  friend?  Male  or  female?" 

"  Oh,  female.  The  vicar's  rather  a  dear,  but  his 
wife  .  .  ."  She  gave  an  all-expressive  gesture,  and 
rose  to  be  polite  to  her  unwelcome  guests. 

"  This  is  Mr.  .  .  .  Why,  do  you  know  each 
167 


i68  ALFS  BUTTON 

other?  "  For  the  vicar  and  Allen  had  fallen  into 
one  another's  arms. 

"  Last  time  we  met,"  explained  the  reverend 
gentleman,  "  I  was  bowling  for  your  father's  team 
and  this  young  man  was  what  is  technically  known 
as  taking  tea  off  me." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Isobel.  "  I  was  scoring  and 
very  busy  you  kept  me." 

"  Well,  well,  how  splendid  to  see  you  again,  and 
recovering  your  strength,  I  hope?  And  what  tre- 
mendous luck  for  you  falling  into  the  hands  of 
friends!" 

"  I  should  rather  think  it  was,"  agreed  Allen  with 
enthusiasm. 

"  No  luck  about  it  at  all,"  corrected  Isobel.  "  I 
heard  he  was  in  London,  so  of  course  he  had  to  come 
here."  Allen  beamed.  "  I'd  have  every  one  of  my 
friends  here  if  I  could  only  get  hold  of  them,"  she 
added  maliciously;  Allen's  face  fell. 

"  We  must  organize  some  cricket  for  you,"  went 
on  the  vicar.  He  was  proceeding  to  enlarge  on  this 
congenial  topic  when  his  wife  brought  him  sternly 
back  to  the  object  of  his  visit. 

"  Is  Sir  Edward  in?  "  she  asked  Miss  FitzPeter. 
"  The  vicar  and  I  have  called  to  see  him  about 
.  .  ."  She  broke  off  her  sentence  in  the  middle  with 
a  startling  suddenness  and  seemed  to  be  struggling 
with  herself.  Mr.  Davies,  not  knowing  what  was 
the  matter,  but  anxious  to  cover  his  wife's  confusion, 
hurled  himself  into  the  breach. 

"  Yes,"  he  corroborated,  "  we  feel  that  he  ought 


ALF  RECEIVES  169 

to  be  told  that  .  .  ."  He  got  no  further.  A 
comical  look  of  mingled  fear  and  suspicion  crossed 
his  face.  Isobel  and  Allen  waited  for  the  sentence 
to  be  brought  to  some  conclusion,  but  in  vain. 

"  Well,"  replied  Isobel,  when  it  was  plain  that  no 
more  was  forthcoming,  "  I  believe  dad  is  in  the 
library.  I  —  I  hope  nothing  awful  has  happened  — 
nobody's  dead,  or  anything,  are  they?" 

The  vicar  looked  distressed. 

"  Oh,  no,  no.  Nothing  of  that  kind  at  all  —  not 
in  the  least.  I  just  want  to  tell  him  that  .  .  ." 

Again  there  was  an  awkward  pause.  All  four 
were  now  plainly  embarrassed. 

"  I'm  sorry  —  perhaps  I  oughtn't  to  have  asked," 
Isobel  apologized  at  last.  There  was  just  a  touch 
of  stiffness  in  her  tone,  and  poor  Mr.  Davies  grew 
more  troubled  than  ever. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  he  protested.  "  Please  don't 
think  that.  The  whole  matter  is  simply  that  .  .  . 
I  mean  to  say,  you  see,  we  .  .  ." 

A  strained  silence  followed. 

"  Please  come  in,"  Isobel  said  coldly.  "  I  will 
see  if  dad  is  in." 

She  and  her  visitors  went  into  the  house,  leaving 
Allen  lost  in  amazement. 

In  a  moment  or  two  Isobel  returned. 

'  Tell  me,"  Allen  asked  in  a  melodramatic  stage 
whisper,  "  have  they  confessed?  " 

"  Not  a  thing.  What  can  have  made  them 
behave  like  that?  " 

"  I  thought  it  was  my  presence  that  was  worrying 


170  ALPS  BUTTON 

them.  After  all,  if  he's  murdered  his  mother-in- 
law  for  her  lump  sugar  he'd  hardly  like  to  tell  you 
about  it  before  a  comparative  stranger." 

"  Perhaps,"  suggested  Isobel,  "  they've  come  to 
clear  up  the  mystery  of  Denmore  Manor." 

They  both  laughed.  The  Manor  Mystery  had 
become  a  family  jest  at  Dunwater. 

"What's  the  latest  about  it?" 

"  The  plot  thickens,"  answered  Isobel.  "  My 
maid  was  full  of  rumors  at  teatime.  Somebody  — 
I  couldn't  make  out  who  —  has  been  up  to  the 
Manor  and  seen  black  men  and,  oh,  every  kind  of 
horror.  Martin  was  quite  breathless  with  emotion 
when  she  told  me  about  it." 

"  I  wonder  how  much  there  is  in  it." 

"  I'd  love  to  go  and  find  out.  Really,  you  know, 
it's  time  some  sensible  person  went.  According  to 
the  village  these  people  might  be  cannibals." 

"  Perhaps  they  are." 

"  Well,  whatever  they  are,  I  frankly  own  I'm 
curious  about  them." 

"  Why  don't  you  take  me  as  bodyguard  and  call 
on  them?" 

"  No  excuse." 

"  Go  and  ask  'em  for  a  Red  Cross  subscription. 
It's  about  the  only  house  in  the  neighborhood  you 
haven't  been  to." 

"  D'you  mean  it?  "  Isobel  asked  eagerly. 

"  Of  course  I  do.     I'm  as  curious  as  anybody." 

"  Righto,  then  I  will.  To-morrow  morning. 
Don't  say  a  word  to  any  one,  or  dad  may  object. 


ALF  RECEIVES  171 

Meet  me  at  the  garage  at  eleven,  and  we'll  sneak 
out.  You'll  have  to  look  after  me  like  anything. 
Bring  a  card-case  in  one  hand  and  a  revolver  in  the 
other;  then  we'll  be  ready  for  anything.  Hallo, 
dad  —  your  visitors  didn't  keep  you  long.  What 
did  they  want?  " 

Sir  Edward  came  out  on  to  the  terrace  and 
dropped  into  a  chair. 

"Mad!"  he  said  meditatively.  "Quite  mad, 
so  far  as  I  can  see." 

"Who?" 

"  Both  of  'em." 

"  But  what  did  they  want?  " 

"  That's  just  it.  I  don't  know.  They  kept  on 
saying  that  they  wanted  to  tell  me  something  I 
ought  to  know,  but  not  a  thing  more  would  they 
say." 

He  walked  irritably  up  and  down  the  terrace. 
Allen  and  Isobel  looked  at  each  other. 

"  In  the  end,"  said  Sir  Edward,  "  I  lost  my 
temper.  I  practically  kicked  'em  out,  and  I've  no 
idea  now  why  they  came.  I'll  go  and  see  Davies 
to-morrow,  to  see  if  he's  recovered  his  sanity." 

He  paused  in  his  pacing  and  faced  them. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  continued,  "  Malcolm  tells  me 
that  he  hears  in  the  village  that  Denmore  is  full  of 
black  men,  and  done  up  like  a  scene  from  '  Chu 
Chin  Chow  ' —  what's  the  matter?  " 

Both  Allen  and  Isobel  had  had  a  sudden  fit  of 
helpless  laughter. 

"  What  a  set  of  gossips  we  all  are  • — >  go  on,  dad." 


172  ALPS  BUTTON 

"  All  I  was  going  to  say,"  pointed  out  her  father 
huffily,  "  is  that  these  people  are  obviously  from  the 
East,  and  if  so  I  shall  be  glad  to  cultivate  their 
acquaintance.  You  know  how  interested  I  am  in  the 
East.  Gossip,  indeed!  " 

He  shot  into  the  house,  still  in  a  very  ruffled  con- 
dition. 

Isobel  glanced  at  her  watch. 

"  Heavens,"  she  said,  "  I  must  fly.  I've  a  crow 
to  pick  with  the  War  Office  over  the  telephone 
before  dinner.  Don't  forget  —  eleven  to-morrow, 
and  don't  tell  anybody." 

Allen  decided  that  he  was  not  likely  to  tell  any 
one.  The  mere  feeling  that  he  and  Isobel  shared 
a  secret  was  too  precious  for  that.  Every  day  he 
fell  more  deeply  in  love  with  her,  and  every  day  he 
felt  more  sure  that  the  spoilt  beauty  of  the  illus- 
trated papers  had  never  existed  save  in  the  perverted 
imaginations  of  unkind  people.  On  the  surface,  he 
and  she  had  slipped  easily  into  the  old  intimacy  they 
had  enjoyed  once  before,  when  Isobel  was  a  small 
girl,  but  every  now  and  then  some  chance  word  or 
look  had  awakened  a  hope  in  Allen  that  some  deeper 
bond  was  being  or  had  been  formed  between 
them. 

He  lay  in  his  chair  pondering  these  and  other 
imaginings  with  a  pleased  and  fatuous  smile,  until 
the  sight  of  his  fellows  returning  reminded  him  that 
dinner-time  was  approaching,  and  he  went  in  and 
changed  from  his  flannels  into  uniform.  That 
evening  they  played  boisterous  and  childish  games. 


ALF  RECEIVES  173 

Isobel,  looking  more  than  usually  lovely,  was  in  a 
mood  of  irresponsible  gayety;  and  the  patients, 
catching  the  infection,  became  over-excited  to  such 
an  extent  that  the  sister-in-charge  (who  was  making 
as  much  noise  as  any  one)  had  to  assume  an  official 
demeanor  and  threaten  to  stop  the  revels.  To  Allen 
Isobel  hardly  spoke  a  word  the  whole  evening;  and 
if  she  was  aware  of  his  presence  where  he  sat  in  a 
big  arm-chair  in  a  corner  of  the  hall  she  gave  no  sign. 
When  ten  o'clock  came  and  sister  was  shepherding 
her  unruly  flock  to  bed,  Isobel  was  not  there  to  say 
good  night.  Allen  went  to  bed  in  a  state  of  acute 
misery,  convinced  that  Isobel  had  done  this  on  pur- 
pose (which  was  the  truth)  and  because  she  dis- 
liked him  (which  was  not  the  truth).  He  lay 
awake  pondering  dismally  on  the  incomprehensibility 
of  women. 

He  came  down  to  breakfast  next  morning  in  a 
state  of  anxiety,  and  found  Isobel  in  the  center  of  a 
clamorous  mob  busy  dealing  out  coffee  and  tea,  while 
sister  dealt  with  the  porridge  queue.  On  his  plate 
was  a  folded  note,  which  he  opened.  Underneath 
a  skull  and  cross-bones  neatly  executed  in  red  ink 
was  a  message : 

"  Meet  me  beneath  the  gnarled  oak  at  eleven. 
All  is  prepared.  Be  silent  and  secret.  The  pass- 
word is  '  coffee-pot ' —  A  FRIEND." 

So  all  was  well,  after  all ! 

Allen  slipped  away  to  the  garage  at  the  appointed 


174  ALF'S  BUTTON 

time,  and  found  the  little  car,  with  which  Isobel  was 
accustomed  to  terrorize  the  countryside,  being  filled 
with  petrol  by  an  aged  chauffeur. 

"Who  goes  there?"  demanded  the  car's  owner. 

"  Coffee-pot,"  answered  Allen,  in  sepulchral  tones. 

"  Pass  friend,  and  all's  well.  Jump  in,  and  we'll 
get  away  quick." 

"  Not  too  quick,  please.  I'm  not  in  the  Flying 
Corps,"  pleaded  Allen.  But  Isobel  —  who  had  a 
wide  reputation  as  a  fearsome  driver  —  let  in  the 
clutch  with  a  suddenness  which  nearly,  sent  Allen  out 
over  the  back  of  the  car,  and  they  fled  down  the 
drive  and  disappeared  amid  the  cheers  of  the  few 
patients  who  happened  to  see  them.  The  car  went 
round  the  corner  on  one  wheel  at  a  speed  which 
would  have  meant  certain  disaster  had  any  other 
traffic  chanced  to  be  passing.  Allen  clutched  at  the 
sides  of  his  seat  lest  sheer  centrifugal  force  should 
deposit  him  head  downwards  in  a  ditch. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Isobel  reassuringly,  as  they 
gathered  speed  on  the  straight  road. 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  answered  Allen.  "  Tell 
me  when  you're  going  to  take  another  corner.  I'm 
glad  I'm  not  a  nerve  case." 

The  landscape  streamed  past  them  for  a  space, 
till  Isobel  slowed  down. 

"  Here  we  are,"  she  said. 

They  turned  into  the  Manor  drive,  and  a  moment 
later  pulled  up  before  the  house. 

"  I'm  so  excited.  I  feel  just  like  a  cinema 
actress,"  whispered  Isobel. 


ALF  RECEIVES  175- 

"  So'm  I.  I've  got  one  hand  on  my  revolver  and 
one  on  my  card-case.  Which  d'ycm  suppose  will  be 
wanted?  " 

"  Neither.  You'll  have  to  use  the  revolver  hand 
to  ring  the  bell  with." 

"  No,  I  shan't.  Somebody's  coming.  Get  ready 
to  fly  for  your  life.  .  .  .  Why,  it's  an  ordinary 
butler!" 

It  was  Mustapha  who  was  the  cause  of  Allen's 
disappointed  whisper  —  a  transformed  Mustapha, 
wearing  instead  of  his  gorgeous  robes  the  sober  black 
of  the  English  serving-man,  and  looking  so  villainous 
that  Allen  wondered  for  one  moment  whether  he 
ought  not  to  have  brought  his  revolver  in  real 
earnest. 

"Er— "  said  Isobel,  "is  Mr.— er  .  .  ." 

Mustapha,  casting  one  glance  of  appraising  admir- 
ation over  her,  did  not  wait  for  more.  Bowing  low 
to  Allen  he  signified  by  a  sign  that  they  were  to 
await  his  return,  and  disappeared  round  the  angle  of 
the  house. 

"I  —  I  hope  it's  all  right,  "  whispered  Isobel  a 
little  nervously. 

"  We  can  still  escape,"  Allen  pointed  out. 

"  No, —  I'm  going  through  with  it.  But  —  it 
was  a  black  man!  " 

"  Very,"  said  Allen.  "  Probably  he'd  look  less  of 
a  villain  in  his  native  dress." 

"  I  hope  so,  I'm  sure." 

On  a  lawn  at  the  south  side  of  the  house  stood  two 
long  chairs  above  which  the  blue  smoke  from  two 


176  ALFS  BUTTON 

pipes  curled  heavenwards.  On  one  lay  Bill,  with 
the  faithful  Lucy  still  curled  up  at  his  feet;  on  the 
other  was  the  soi-disant  Mr.  Wentworth.  Both  had 
changed  from  the  ceremonious  raiment  of  the  pre- 
vious day,  and  now  appeared  in  the  role  of  gentle- 
men of  leisure.  Bill  was  gorgeous  in  a  red-and- 
black  blazer,  white  trousers,  and  brown-and-white 
canvas  shoes;  but  Alf  —  as  befitted  the  lord  of  the 
Manor  —  outshone  him  by  far.  He  had  a  straw 
hat  with  a  gaudy  black-and-yellow  ribbon;  a  Nor- 
folk coat  in  the  bold  black-and-white  check;  and 
trousers  and  shoes  like  Bill's.  A  stiffly-starched 
collar  nestled  furtively  behind  a  satin  tie  of  aggres- 
sive color  and  immutable  form.  But  the  crowning 
glory  of  the  whole  get-up  was  a  strange  garment  — 
a  cross  between  a  cummerbund  and  a  dress-waistcoat 
—  which  encircled  his  middle  and  supported  a  gold 
albert  watchchain  ornamented  with  many  dangling 
seals. 

By  the  side  of  each  chair  stood  an  inlaid  stool 
bearing  each  an  enormous  flagon  of  silver.  As 
Mustapha  approached  the  little  group,  an  arm  ap- 
peared from  each  chair,  and  the  two  flagons  were 
simultaneously  lifted,  were  inverted  for  a  space  and 
were  replaced  simultaneously  on  the  stools.  Bill's 
voice  spoke  estatically. 

"Bit  of  all  right,  eh?" 

Alf  grunted.  Not  even  his  consciousness  of  sar- 
torial perfection  could  cheer  him  up.  He  was 
brooding  darkly  on  the  probable  results  of  the  lib- 
erty he  had  taken  with  the  Davies  family,  and  was 


ALF  RECEIVES  177 

fast  working  himself  into  a  panic.  All  his  experi- 
ence of  Eustace's  enchantments  filled  him  with  pro- 
found misgivings;  and  in  the  circumstances  Bill's 
soulless  and  unsympathetic  delight  in  the  ephemeral 
pleasures  of  the  moment  infuriated  him. 

"  Cheer  up,  mate,"  said  Bill.  "  What's  the  mat- 
ter now?  Still  off  it  because  the  ole  lady  told  you 
off?  You've  stopped  'er  mouth,  any'ow." 

'  Well,  an'  even  if  I  'ave,  'ow  much  better  are 
we  then?  We  might  sit  'ere  for  a  year,  an'  never 
get  nearer  doin'  anything  than  we  are  now.  'Ow 
are  we  goin'  to  get  to  know  a  toff  like  ole  Sir  Fitz- 
Peter,  eh?  'Ow  can  we.  .  .  .  'Ullo,  Farr,  what 
is  it  now?  " 

"  Lord,  there  stand&th  at  thy  door  one  desiring 
entrance;  and  verily  he  bringeth  with  him  a  maiden 
possessing  the  rarest  beauty,  so  that  if  her  mind  and 
attainments  be  but  of  a  piece  with  her  fairness  of 
face,  not  less  than  ten  thousand  pieces  of  gold  would 
be  her  price." 

Alf  gaped  at  him. 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  'ell  you  think  you're 
talkin'  about,  Farr,"  he  said  at  length.  "  But  bring 
'ooever  it  is  along  'ere." 

Mustapha  bowed  and  retreated. 

"  If  there's  a  lady  in  the  case,"  said  Bill,  "  Lucy 
'ad  better  cut  away.  'Ere!  skedaddle,  Lucy  — 
quick!  You  ain't  dressed  for  company." 

Lucy  departed  disconsolately  for  the  house,  quite 
unable  to  understand  why  she  was  thus  dismissed. 
In  her  lord's  honor  she  had  put  on  her  most  striking 


178  ALPS  BUTTON 

finery.  She  had  touched  up  her  eyes  with  kohl,  her 
cheeks  with  carmine  and  her  finger-tips  with  henna. 
She  was  comfortably  conscious  of  looking  her  best. 
Why,  then,  was  she  dismissed  the  Presence? 

'"Ere,"  called  Bill  after  her,  "not  that  way; 
you'll  run  right  into  'em  .  .  .  Lumme,  'ere  they 
come.  .  .  .  Why,  Alf — it's  'er  —  your  girl  .  .  . 
an'  —  an'  Lootenant  Allen  with  'er.  'E'd  know  me 
for  sure.  I'm  off." 

And  while  Isobel  and  Allen  were  occupied  in  gaz- 
ing speechlessly  after  Lucy's  disappearing  form,  Bill 
beat  a  panic-stricken  and  precipitate  retreat  into  the 
rose-garden.  Alf,  unnerved  almost  as  much  by  the 
unlooked-for  good  fortune  which  brought  Isobel  to 
him  as  by  the  embarrassment  of  having  to  face  his  old 
platoon-commander,  turned  to  receive  his  visitors. 

"  I  hope  you  will  excuse  us,  Mr.  ..." 

"  Wentworth,"  supplied  Alf.  He  was  getting 
used  to  his  new  name  now. 

"  Mr.  Wentworth,  for  bursting  in  upon  you  in 
this  way.  I  am  Miss  FitzPeter,  and  this  is  Mr.  Al- 
len." Alf,  quaking  at  the  knees,  shook  hands  with 
his  late  commander.  He  felt,  in  spite  of  his  clean- 
shaved  upper  lip,  that  nothing  could  prevent  his  de- 
tection now;  but  Allen  gave  no  sign  of  recognition. 
Indeed,  he  hardly  looked  at  Mr.  Wentworth's  face 
at  all  in  his  delighted  examination  of  his  clothes. 

Isobel,  struggling  with  herself,  went  straight  to 
the  point.  Only  by  doing  this,  she  felt,  could  she 
stifle  the  demon  of  laughter  within  her;  and  if  she 
chanced  to  catch  Allen's  eye  nothing  could  save  her. 


ALF  RECEIVES  179 

"  I'm  afraid  I've  come  on  business,  Mr.  Went- 
worth.  Worse  than  that,  on  begging  business.  I'm 
collecting  for  a  Red  Cross  hospital  which  is  being 
started  at  Anston.  It's  such  a  good  object  and  they 
do  need  funds  so  badly  —  and  I  wondered  —  would 
you  be  so  kind  —  anything  will  do.  .  .  ." 

She  concluded  with  her  famous  smile  which  had 
in  another  life  done  yeoman  service  to  the  country  at 
flag-days  and  bazaars.  Alf,  whose  obfuscated  intel- 
lect had  been  groping  wildly  for  a  meaning  in  her 
elliptical  remarks,  suddenly  understood.  Here  was 
a  chance  for  a  display  of  his  wealth.  Fate  was  in- 
deed playing  into  his  hands. 

"  Farr,"  he  said,  "  go  an'  get  some  money." 

Mustapha,  who  had  all  this  while  been  gazing 
upon  Isobel  with  lively  and  increasing  satisfaction, 
was  much  pleased  to  find  that  this  lovely  "  slave  " 
had  found  favor  in  his  master's  eyes.  He  went  off 
joyfully  to  the  house  to  obey  Alf's  command,  and  in 
a  few  moments  he  returned  followed  by  six  female 
slaves.  Isobel  and  Allen,  whose  hopes  had  been 
raised  by  their  glimpse  of  the  polychromatic  Lucy, 
were  disappointed  to  find  that  these  were  clad  in 
sober  black,  relieved  only  by  the  neatest  of  caps  and 
aprons.  But  this  only  threw  into  greater  prom- 
inence their  un-English  appearance. 

Each  of  the  six  carried  a  bulky  bag.  Mustapha, 
coming  forward,  laid  a  cloth  upon  the  ground  at  Al- 
len's feet,  >and  made  a  sign  to  the  first  slave.  She 
approached,  and  having  (with  much  crackling  of  her 
apron)  made  a  deep  obeisance,  poured  out  upon  the 


i8o  ALFS  BUTTON 

cloth  a  jingling,  flashing  stream  of  gold  coins.  Then 
she  bowed  once  more  to  the  earth  and  retired. 

Allen  and  Isobel,  who  for  three  years  or  so  had 
seen  no  gold  except  an  occasional  stray  half-sover- 
eign, stared  as  though  hypnotized;  but  Alf  was  the 
most  astonished  of  the  three.  Nobody  seemed  capa- 
ble of  speaking  a  word.  Mustapha,  interpreting 
their  silence  to  mean  that  the  sum  offered  was  not 
large  enough,  signed  to  the  second  slave;  and  the 
glittering  heap  was  forthwith  doubled. 

"  But,"  said  Allen  at  last,  recovering  his  power 
of  speech  with  an  effort,  "  we  — we  can't  take  this. 
You  know  we  can't." 

"  No,  sir,"  agreed  Alf  unhappily.  "  It's  all  a 
mistal^ib.  'Ere,  Farr,  this  won't  do,  you  know." 

"  Verily,  master,  if  thou  didst  offer  t.0  this  mer- 
chant all  the  gold  that  is  in  the  six  bags,  it  would 
not  be  an  over-payment;  for  verily  mine  eyes  have 
not  looked  upon  so  fair  a  slave." 

He  signed  once  more,  and  the  four  remaining  bags 
were  emptied  on  to  the  pile. 

"  Heavens,"  said  Isobel,  suddenly  realizing 
Mustapha's  meaning,  "  he  thinks  .  .  ." 

"  Yes,  confound  him,  he  does,"  replied  Allen 
indignantly.  "  Not  much  doubt  about  the  Oriental 
there !  "  He  glanced  angrily  at  the  puzzled 
Mustapha.  "  While  as  for  the  question  of  gold- 
hoarding  .  .  ." 

Alf  caught  the  last  word. 

"  S'welp  me,  sir,"  he  said  earnestly,  "  I  never 
knew  'e  'ad  it,  I  swear  I  didn't.  'Ere,  Farr,  where 


ALF  RECEIVES  181 

the  blue  blazes  did  you  get  all  this  coin  from? 
Don't  you  know  there's  a  war  on?" 

"  Lord,"  replied  Mustapha  with  pardonable 
pride,  and  not  comprehending  in  the  least  what  the 
true  position  was,  "  this  is  but  the  smallest  part  of 
the  riches  that  lie  heaped  in  thy  treasury,  the  full 
extent  whereof  no  man  may  count.  Therefore 
chaffer  not  with  this  merchant,  but  pay  him  that 
which  he  asks;  for  in  truth  the  maid  is  passing  fair. 
Her  lips  .  .  ." 

"  That'll  be  about  enough  from  you,"  roared 
Allen  with  sudden  fury.  Mustapha,  his  eulogy 
checked  in  mid-surge,  retreated  a  pace  or  two  in 
alarm,  while  Alf,  obeying  subconsciously  the  ring  of 
authority  in  -the  tone,  came  to  attention.  Luckily, 
however,  his  lapse  was  not  noticed;  and  he  remem- 
bered his  status  as  a  country  gentleman  and  put  his 
hands  in  his  pockets. 

"  'Ere,"  he  said  to  Mustapha,  who  was  still 
unequal  to  the  intellectual  pressure  of  the  conversa- 
tion, "  take  that  stuff  back  where  it  came  from.  An' 
look  'ere,  Farr,  you  got  to  get  every  last  farthing  o' 
gold  in  the  place  changed  into  notes  right  off.  An' 
if  I  catch  any  more  'oardin'  goin'  on  .  .  ."  He 
broke  off  and  turned  to  his  guests.  "  If  you'll  be  so 
good,  miss  and  sir,  as  to  step  into  the  'ouse,  I'll  'ave 
it  brought  to  you  in  notes." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Isobel  feebly.  She  followed 
Alf  into  the  house  with  eager  anticipation,  but  at  the 
same  time  wondering  how  much  more  she  could  bear 
without  giving  way  to  hysterics. 


182  ALPS  BUTTON 

Since  Mrs.  Davies'  visit  Alf  and  Bill  had  done 
their  honest  best  to  introduce  into  Eustace's  exclu- 
sively Oriental  scheme  a  touch  of  that  "  'omeyness  " 
which  it  had  so  obviously  lacked.  As  a  result,  the 
jeweled  magnificence  of  the  original  scheme  now 
served  as  a  back-ground  to  an  impression  of  solid 
mid-Victorian  comfort.  Plush-covered  chairs  and 
sofas  now  abounded;  so  did  clumsy  and  top-heavy 
side-boards,  draped  mirrors  and  lace  curtains. 
Mats  of  hot,  black  fur  reenforced  the  priceless  Per- 
sian rugs;  a  stuffed  bird  in  a  glass  case  stood  in  each 
window;  and  the  walls  were  covered  with  a  choice 
selection  of  colored  "  presentation  plates "  in 
heavily  gilded  frames.  The  whole  effect  was  as 
though  some  rather  dissipated  roysterer,  returning 
from  a  fancy  dress  ball  in  the  robes  of  a  gorgeous 
caliph,  had  protected  them  from  the  weather  by  the 
addition  of  a  frock-coat. 

Isobel,  who  had  expected  a  stage  setting  of  the' 
"  Chu  Chin  Chow  "  order,  was  utterly  unprepared 
for  the  improvements.  She  sat  down  suddenly  on 
the  nearest  plush  monstrosity  and  looked  about  her. 
Her  mouth  was  firm,  but  her  eyes  filled  gradually 
with  tears;  and  she  knew  that  if  she  looked  at  Allen 
she  would  disgrace  herself. 

But  now,  fortunately  for  both  of  them,  Alf,  full 
of  determination  not  to  let  slip  this  golden  oppor- 
tunity of  impressing  his  lady,  bustled  out  of  the 
room  to  summon  the  much-enduring  Eustace  and 
explain  to  him  the  nature  and  functions  of  paper 
currency.  Allen  and  Isobel,  watching  his  departure 


ALF  RECEIVES  183 

anxiously,  just  managed  to  preserve  their  self-control 
until  he  had  gone;  but  then  the  floods  of  laughter 
burst  forth  irresistibly.  They  wallowed  breath- 
lessly, feebly  wiping  their  streaming  eyes.  After  a 
time  Isobel  managed  to  pull  herself  partially 
together  and  to  sit  up;  but  the  sight  and  sound  of 
Allen,  who  was  at  full  length  on  a  sofa  gasping  like 
a  fish  and  quaking  like  a  jelly,  set  her  off  again.  It 
was  a  shameless  spectacle. 

But  by  the  time  Alf  came  back  two  weak  but 
happy  people  were  gravely  examining  the  decorations, 
and  were  even  far  enough  recovered  to  be  able  to 
congratulate  their  host  on  his  taste  without  a  quiver. 

"  You  have  been  in  the  East,  I  suppose,  Mr. 
Wentworth?  "  asked  Isobel. 

"  I  went  to  Yarmouth  once,"  said  Alf. 

"  Ah,  yes.  But  I  mean  the  Orient.  Egypt  — 
Persia  —  India." 

"  Oh !  "  Alf  caught  the  allusion  and  began  to 
fidget.  The  conversation  seemed  to  be  taking  an 
awkward  turn.  "  You  mean  this  'ere?  "  he  asked, 
waving  a  comprehensive  hand  about  him.  "  I  can't 
say  as  I've  ever  been  in  them  parts  meself  like,  but 
them  as  did  the  'ouse  up  for  me  comes  from  there. 
I  'ad  it  brought  over  regardless.  Only  they  didn't 
'ave  much  furniture,  an'  no  pictures,  so  I  'ad  to 
order  them  meself.  That's  a  nice  thing,  now." 
He  pointed  to  a  glaring  lithograph  depicting  a  dog 
of  no  known  breed  'being  mauled  by  a  small  child 
apparently  in  the  advanced  stages  of  scarlet  fever. 
It  was  called  "  Happy  Playmates." 


184  ALPS  BUTTON 

"  Always  been  fond  o'  that  from  a  boy,  I  'ave,"  he 
said. 

"  Very  nice,"  agreed  Isobel  gravely.  "  What  do 
you  think,  Denis?"  She  slipped  a  hand  inside  his 
arm  and  gave  it  a  delighted  little  squeeze. 

"  Charming!  "  His  voice  shook  ever  so  little, 
but  he  had  completely  regained  control  of  his  expres- 
sion. 

Alf  judged  that  the  time  had  arrived  to  bring 
his  heavy  batteries  into  action.  He  produced  from 
his  pockets  a  little  bundle  of  notes,  and  handed  them 
to  Isobel. 

"  There,  miss,"  he  said  in  admirably  casual  tones, 
"  a  little  something  for  your  'orsepital." 

"  Thank  you  so  much,"  said  Isobel,  smiling  at  him. 
"  It's  most  kind  of  you.  Denis,  would  you  .  .  .?  " 

She  glanced  at  the  packet  in  her  hand,  and  her 
voice  trailed  away  in  speechless  surprise.  Then  she 
offered  the  notes  back  to  Alf. 

"Surely,"  she  gasped,  "there's  some  mistake?" 

Alf  glowed;  when  Isobel  had  taken  his  "little 
something  "  so  casually  he  had  for  one  moment  been 
afraid  that  his  coup  had  failed  —  that  in  spite  of  his 
increasing  confidence  in  Eustace's  powers,  he  had  not 
been  "  wholesale  "  enough;  he  was  thankful  to  find 
that  this  was  not  so. 

"  Quite  all  right,  miss,"  he  said  jauntily. 

"  But  —  but  they  are  thousand-pound  notes !  I 
can't  —  I  really  can't  allow  .  .  ." 

Allen  opened  his  eyes  wide  in  astonishment. 

"  If  you  please,   miss,"   said  Alf   earnestly,    "  I 


ALF  RECEIVES  185 

shall  be  most  honored  if  you'll  'ang  on  to  —  I  should 
say  keep  —  the  'ole  lot." 

Isobel,  looking  slightly  dazed,  went  through  the 
notes  in  her  hand.  There  were  ten  notes,  each  for 
a  thousand  pounds.  She  laid  them  on  the  table 
beside  her. 

"  Thank  you  very  much  indeed,  Mr.  Wentworth," 
she  said,  "  but  really,  it's  quite  impossible  .  .  ." 

"  I  can  spare  it  easy.  It's  nothing  to  me,  I  give 
you  my  word.  If  you'd  just  take  it  to  oblige  me, 
like,  I  shall  be  much  obliged.  I  shall  really." 

"  But  I  don't  understand  why  you  should  want  to 
do  this." 

Here  was  a  splendid  chance  of  advancing  his 
cause  with  a  telling  compliment.  Bill  would  have 
taken  it,  Alf  felt,  at  once ;  he  himself  simply  shuffled 
his  feet  and  went  very  red. 

"  It's  just  to  oblige  me,"  he  said  shamefacedly. 
"  I'd  —  I'd  like  you  to  'ave  it." 

Isobel  suddenly  realized  that  this  eccentric  little 
man  meant  the  money  to  be  the  token  of  a  personal 
tribute  to  herself.  She  took  the  topmost  note. 

"  Mr.  Wentworth,"  she  said  in  a  gentle  voice, 
"  I  couldn't  possibly  take  all  that  money  from  any 
one.  It's  far  more  than  the  fund  is  trying  to  collect, 
and  there  are  other  things  which  need  money  so 
badly.  But  I  will  take  this,  and  thank  you  most 
tremendously." 

She  put  out  her  hand,  and  Alf,  still  very  red, 
grasped  it  so  heartily  that  she  winced.  Then  he 
followed  his  visitors  to  the  front  door.  As  Isobel 


186  ALFS  BUTTON 

cranked  up  (declining  Allen's  proffered  help  with  a 
stern  reminder  that  he  was  an  invalid)  Alf  realized 
that  something  still  remained  to  be  done.  He  must 
not  let  Isobel  go  without  arranging  for  a  future 
meeting.  He  must  strike  while  the  iron  was  hot. 

"  Could  you  —  would  you  an'  yer  pa  step  in  some 
day  an'  'ave  a  bit  o'  something  to  eat?  "  he  blurted 
out. 

"  I'm  sure  he'd  be  delighted,"  said  she  impulsively. 
The  little  man's  earnestness  had  quite  melted  her  for 
the  time  being,  and  she  committed  Sir  Edward  with- 
out a  thought.  "  He  is  so  interested  in  everything 
that  comes  from  the  East.  Come  to  tea  with  us  on 
Friday  and  ask  him  yourself." 

She  nodded,  and  disappeared  in  a  cloud  of  dust. 

Alf  watched  her  out  of  sight,  and  turned  to  find 
Mustapha  at  his  elbow. 

"  Farr,"  he  said  excitedly,  "  that's  the  young  lady 
what  I'm  going  to  marry.  I'm  goin'  to  'ave  tea 
with  'er  father  on  Friday.  What  d'you  think  o' 
that?" 

"  Lord,"  said  Mustapha,  "  all  shall  be  prepared." 

Alf  dashed  upstairs  to  Bill  without  considering 
what  it  was  that  Mustapha  was  going  to  prepare. 

Bill  listened  unmoved  to  his  friend's  narrative. 

"  Did  Lootenant  Allen  reckernize  you?  "  he  asked 
at  the  end. 

"  No  more  'n  nothin'.  Look  'ere,  you  don't  seem 
to  take  it  in.  I'm  goin'  round  to  tea  on  Friday." 

"I  'card.  What  did  I  tell  yer?"  asked  Bill 
cynically.  "  It's  all  a  matter  o'  money.  All  you 


ALF  RECEIVES  183 

got  to  do  now  is  pile  on  the  swank  for  pa  FitzP.,  an' 
you'll  be  'is  dearly  beloved  son-in-law  before  we 
know  where  we  are.  What  oh !  " 

Bill  closed  his  eyes  and  seemed  to  indulge  in  a 
beatific  vision.  Alf  did  not  share  his  sublime  con- 
fidence, but  even  he  felt  that  the  campaign  had  now 
made  a  really  auspicious  start. 

When  the  car  was  out  of  sight  of  the  Manor, 
Allen  once  more  fell  a  victim  of  paroxysms  of 
laughter. 

"  Go  slow,  for  Heaven's  sake,"  he  gasped,  "  or 
I  shall  fall  out." 

"  Stop  it !  "  Isobel  commanded  sharply.  "  Stop 
it  at  once.  I  won't  have  that  poor  little  man 
sneered  at.  I  think  he's  a  dear,  so  there." 

"  Cupboard  love,"  Allen  retorted,  wiping  his 
streaming  eyes.  "  He  hasn't  given  me  a  million 
pounds  for  the  Red  Cros-s  and  he  hasn't  asked  me  to 
dinner,  so  I'm  free  to  laugh  if  I  want  to.  Those 
clothes  .  .  .  and  that  furniture  .  .  . !  If  I'd 
caught  your  eye  again  I  should  have  had  a  fit." 

Isobel  laughed  a  little  herself. 

"Who  can  he  be?"  she  asked.  "It's  rather 
dreadful  that  a  common  little  uneducated  Cockney 
like  that  should  have  all  that  money,  isn't  it?  And 
did  you  see  his  friend,  who  bolted  when  we 
arrived?  " 

'  Yes  —  a  shy  bird  in  gorgeous  plumage.  D'yoii 
know,  I'm  sure  I've  seen  that  chap  Wentworth  some- 
where before,  or  some  one  just  like  him." 


i88  ALPS  BUTTON 

"  That's  funny.  I  felt  just  the  same.  Who  can 
it  be?" 

"  Wait  a  bit  —  it's  coming  to  me.  Why,  of 
course,  I've  got  it.  If  he  had  a  mustache,  he'd  be 
the  living  image  of  a  silly  ass  in  my  platoon,  Higgins 
by  name,  and  so  ...  I  say,  what's  the  matter?  " 

The  car  gave  a  violent  double  lurch  as  Isobel 
momentarily  seemed  to  lose  control  of  the  steering- 
wheel.  Luckily  they  were  traveling  very  slowly. 
Allen  leant  across  her  and  stopped  the  car. 

"  Iso,"  he  said,  unconsciously  using  the  affectionate 
abbreviation  for  the  first  time,  "  whatever's  the  mat- 
ter? Are  you  ill?  You're  as  white  as  a  ghost." 

She  ignored  his  question. 

'  Tell  me,"  she  said,  "  had  you  really  a  man  in 
your  platoon  called  Higgins?  " 

"Yes  — but  why  .  .  .?" 

"  And  is  he  really  like  this  Wentworth  man?  " 

"  Yes.     But  you  can't  have  seen  him." 

"  Only  —  only  in  a  dream." 

"What!" 

"  Oh,  I  know  it  sounds  mad  to  you;  but  I  had  the 
most  dreadful  vivid  dream  about  being  at  the  front. 
I  was  being  shown  round  the  trenches  by  a  couple 
of  Tommies  —  I'd  always  said  I  wanted  to  see 
them,  you  know.  I  didn't  realize  ...  it  was 
awful.  .  .  .  One  of  the  two  Tommies  was  just  like 
Mr.  Wentworth,  and  was  called  Higgins.  The 
other's  name  was  —  wait  a  bit  —  oh,  yes,  Grant. 
And  then  you  came  into  it  and  .  .  .  Denis,  don't 
look  like  that!" 


ALF  RECEIVES  189 

"Grant?"  echoed  he  hoarsely.  "Why,  it  must 
have  been.  .  .  .  Iso,  shall  I  tell  you  what  you  said 
to  me  when  I  came  round  the  corner  of  the  trench?  " 

Her  eyes  dilated;  she  caught  at  his  arm  and 
nodded  silently. 

"  You  said,  '  It  must  be  a  dream.  If  it  isn't,  I 
can't  bear  it!  '  Was  that  it?  " 

She  nodded  again.  She  could  not  speak.  Allen 
felt  a  strange  dryness  in  his  throat.  He  put  his  arm 
round  Isobel,  and  she  leant  against  him  trembling. 

"Then  —  then  you  disappeared.  I  thought  I 
must  have  been  seeing  things,  but  —  but.  .  .  ." 

"  It  was  real,"  she  whispered.  "  I  knew  it  was, 
somehow.  That's  why  I  came  here  to  work  — 
that's  why  I  brought  you  here.  Denis  —  I'm 
frightened.  What  does  it  all  mean?  " 

"  Mean?  "  repeated  Allen.  "  My  darling,  you're 
shaking  like  a  leaf.  What  can  it  mean  but  —  this  ?  " 

They  kissed.  .  .  .  Years  later,  it  seemed,  Isobel 
caught  sight  of  Allen's  wrist-watch,  and  came  sud- 
denly back  to  earth. 

"  We  must  simply  fly,"  she  said.  "  Thank 
Heaven  there  was  nobody  on  the  road  to  see  us. 
No,  Denis,  you  mustn't.  We  must  get  back.  .  .  . 
Oh,  well,  then  .  .  ." 

They  kissed  once  more,  blissfully  unconscious  that 
a  pair  of  youthful  but  malicious  eyes  had  been  drink- 
ing in  every  detail  of  the  scene,  or  that  when  the  car 
had  proceeded  on  its  way  —  hopelessly  late  for 
lunch  —  Bobby  Myers  scrambled  out  of  the  hedge 
and  scurried  hot-foot  to  entrust  this  precious  infor- 


igo  ALPS  BUTTON 

mation  to  the  safe  keeping  of  Mrs.  Rudd.  By  tea- 
time  there  was  not  a  soul  in  the  entire  neighborhood 
who  had  not  heard  the  news,  with  the  exception  of 
the  isolated  and  deeply  suspected  inhabitants  of  Den- 
more  Manor. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

P.C.  JOBLING  INVESTIGATES 

TTUMPH,"  said  Mrs.  Rudd  the  post-mistress, 
X.  JL  "  lot  o'  good  the  police  force  is,  I  don't  think, 
ain't  they?  " 

The  police  force  shuffled  its  feet  and  looked  un- 
comfortable. 

"  Well,  now,  auntie,"  it  began  mildly,  "  I  don't 
see  'ow  .  .  ." 

"  None  o'  yer  '  Well,  now  auntie  '  for  me,  please. 
Are  you  policeman  in  this  'ere  village  or  are  you 
not?  —  answer  me  that." 

"  O'  course  I  am." 

"  Well  then,  'ere's  a  lot  o'  'eathen  foreign  nigger 
German  spies  gettin'  ready  to  murder  us  all  in  our 
beds  under  our  noses,  an'  'ere  you  sit  and  do  nothin'. 
I'm  ashamed  of  you,  Artie,  I  am.  You  go  spendin' 
all  yer  time  with  yer  nose  in  detective  stories,  an' 
dreamin'  about  the  promotion  you're  goin'  to  get;  an' 
now  you  get  a  real  fine  chance  o'  detectin'  something 
an'  runnin'  a  lot  of  shady  foreigners  in,  an'  all  you 
do  is  twiddle  yer  great  silly  thumbs  an'  say,  '  Well, 
now,  auntie  ' !  " 

"  But  'ow  can  I  go  to  the  'ouse?  "  wailed  the  sole 
representative  of  law  and  order  in  Denmore  miser- 
ably. "  You  can't  take  a  man  up  'cause  'e's  a 
foreigner." 

"  No,  worse  luck."  Mrs.  Rudd  considered  that  irt 

191 


192  ALPS  BUTTON 

any  properly-governed  state  a  law  to  that  effect 
would  have  been  made  long  ago.  "  But  you  can 
take  'im  up  for  'oardin'  food.  It  ain't  for  me  to 
teach  you  yer  own  job,  ,Artie  Jobling;  if  I  was  police- 
man 'ere  I'd  pretty  soon  think  out  a  way  to  get  into 
that  'ouse  an'  'ave  a  look  round.  'Ow  did  the  ones 
in  them  books  o'  yours  do  it?  " 

"  Disguised  theirselves  gen'rally,"  said  Artie 
without  enthusiasm,  "  an'  went  an'  walked  out  with 
the  maids." 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  do  that?  " 

"  I  ain't  no  'and  at  disguises,"  sighed  Artie,  gazing 
sadly  at  his  regulation  boots.  "  I  sh'd  'ave  all  the 
kids  in  the  village  runnin'  arter  me." 

Mrs.  Rudd  followed  the  direction  of  her  nephew's 
eyes,  and  forbore  to  press  the  point  further. 

"  Besides,"  resumed  P.C.  Jobling  after  a  little 
reflection,  "  they  say  that  the  maids  in  this  'ere  'ouse 
is  niggers,  an'  none  too  respectable  at  that.  'Orrible 
things  might  'appen." 

He  brooded  darkly  on  the  possibility. 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  do  something  we  shall  'ave 
'orrible  things  'appening  any'ow,"  said  Mrs.  Rudd. 
"  Sure  as  fate  we'll  all  be  murdered.  I  was  saying 
to-day  to  Mrs.  Green  .  .  ." 

"  If  I  went,"  interrupted  Artie,  struck  with  a  new 
thought,  "  they  might  murder  me." 

"  They  might,"  agreed  his  aunt,  "  an'  they  might 
not.  Any'ow,  that's  what  you're  'ere  for,  Artie.  If 
anybody  in  this  village  is  to  be  murdered  it  ought  to 
be  you,  Artie.  It's  your  plain  dooty.  If  you  ain't 


P.C.  JOBLING  INVESTIGATES       193 

goin'   to   do  it,  you  ought  to  be  in  the  trenches." 

Constable  Jobling  stared  at  her  without  a  word. 
This  view  of  his  mission  in  life  had  never  been 
brought  to  his  notice  before.  Apparently  it  dis- 
concerted him  no  little. 

"  Lot  o'  good  the  police  force  is  when  anything 
does  'appen."  Mrs.  Rudd  returned  with  freshness 
and  vigor  to  her  original  line  of  argument.  "  An' 
a  lot  o'  promotion  you'll  get,  my  lad.  Why,  I'd 
make  a  better  policeman'n  you  out  o'  a  turnip-top  an' 
a  broom  'andle  any  day.  Why  'ere's  Mrs.  Green." 

The  door-latch  clicked,  and  Mrs.  Green  of  the 
general  stores  entered.  "  'Ere,  Maria,"  said  Mrs. 
Rudd,  "  I  was  just  tellin'  young  Artie  .  .  ." 

But  young  Artie  had  had  enough.  He  tramped 
heavily  out,  slammed  the  post-office  door  behind  him, 
and  retired  to  his  own  cottage  to  brood  on  the  cursed 
spite  which  had  selected  him  to  minister  to  times  so 
out  of  joint. 

For  ten  days  or  more  the  whole  village  had  been 
in  a  ferment  over  the  strange  people  and  stranger 
doings  at  the  Manor.  The  fact  that  neither  the 
vicar  nor  his  wife,  who  had  been  seen  to  leave  the 
place,  could  be  induced  to  say  a  word  of  what  they 
had  seen,  only  deepened  the  dark  and  formless  sus- 
picions held  in  the  neighborhood.  Jobling  had  had 
an  increasingly  strong  idea  that  the  public  opinion  of 
him  as  a  smart  and  ambitious  young  member  of  a  dis- 
tinguished body  was  gradually  changing,  but  his  out- 
spoken aunt  was  the  first  person  to  put  this  new  feel- 
ing into  words  and  to  force  the  unfortunate  police- 


194  ALPS  BUTTON 

man  to  look  facts  in  the  face.  He  was  frightened  of 
the  unknown  murdering  heathens  who  might  possibly 
lurk  in  ambush  for  him  in  the  grounds  of  Denmore 
Manor,  but  he  was  even  more  frightened  of  the 
known  and  well-tried  power  of  his  aunt's  tongue. 
He  sat  behind  the  curtains  in  his  cottage  and  gave 
himself  up  to  melancholy  thought. 

Before  long  he  saw  Mrs.  Green,  her  chat  with  the 
post-mistress  concluded,  coming  up  the  street.  She 
met  with  another  decrepit  old  dame,  and  the  two 
began  to  discuss  some  choice  piece  of  scandal  with 
great  animation.  Mrs.  Green  closed  her  peroration 
by  pointing  at  Jobling's  window  and  shaking  her 
head  sorrowfully.  The  other  lady  also  shook  her 
head  and  doddered  off  up  the  street,  where  she  could 
be  seen  a  few  moments  later  in  deep  and  direful  con- 
verse with  her  dearest  friend. 

Jobling  knew  the  signs.  Unless  he  did  something, 
and  quickly,  he  was  a  marked  man.  But  how  could 
he  push  himself  into  a  house  without  a  pretext? 
Failing  the  subtle  methods  of  the  detective  of  fiction, 
what  reason  could  a  large  but  timid  policeman  find 
for  penetrating  into  a  nest  of  probably  dangerous 
criminals  without  giving  them  offense? 

The  problem  remained  unsolved  all  day,  and 
troubled  him  so  much  that  at  night  he  found  himself 
attracted  to  the  place  by  a  sort  of  morbid  fascination. 
Twice,  greatly  daring,  he  walked  up  and  down  the 
strip  of  road  on  which  the  Manor  grounds  fronted; 
and  then,  turning  down  an  unfrequented  lane,  he 
reached  a  corner  which  was  the  only  spot  not  actually 


P.C.  JOBLING  INVESTIGATES        195 

in  the  grounds  from  which  the  Manor  could  be  seen. 
He  hardly  knew  why  he  had  come  there,  as  it  was  a 
dark,  moonless  night,  and  he  could  not  expect  to  see 
as  far  as  the  house.  But  when  he  reached  the  corner 
and  looked  across  the  fields,  the  whole  building  was 
blazing  with  lights,  standing  out  pitilessly  against  the 
decorous  war-time  gloom.  P.C.  Jobling  heaved  a 
sigh  of  relief  and  went  home  with  his  problem  solved. 
He  would  call  on  Mr.  Wentworth  on  the  morrow 
and  would  point  out  to  him  politely,  but  firmly,  that 
he  must  not  show  bright  lights  at  night.  Not  even 
the  most  murdering  of  heathens,  or  the  most  heathen 
of  murderers,  he  felt,  could  take  exception  to  that. 

Next  day,  however,  the  prospect  looked  less 
bright.  He  was  not  quite  so  sure  that  his  reception 
would  be  peaceable.  He  pictured  himself  penetrat- 
ing into  the  fastnesses  of  the  Manor  arid  never  again 
coming  out  —  never,  that  is,  alive.  He  decided 
that  he  would  let  his  aunt  know  where  he  was  going; 
then  he  could  at  least  be  sure  that  he  would  not  die 
quite  unavenged.  Then,  on  second  thoughts,  he  de- 
termined to  say  nothing  about  it.  If  he  did,  he 
would  be  tied  down  definitely  to  a  venture  of  which 
he  disliked  the  idea  more  and  more.  He  put  on  his 
helmet  and  walked  majestically  through  the  village, 
to  restore  his  self-respect.  Unfortunately  for  his 
purpose,  the  first  person  he  met  was  Master  Bobby 
Myers,  who  since  his  exploit  of  climbing  over  the 
Manor  w'all  had  regarded  himself  as  no  small  hero. 

"Yah!"  said  Bobby  with  derision.  '"Go's 
afraid  of  niggers?  " 


196  ALPS  BUTTON 

Outwardly  Jobling  did  not  deign  to  notice  this 
insult,  but  it  struck  deep  all  the  same.  He  strode 
back  through  the  village  and  burst  into  the  little 
post-office. 

"  Auntie,"  he  said  loudly,  "  I'm  goin'  up  to  the 
Manor  to-day  to  'ave  a  look  round." 

"  An'  about  time  too,"  replied  his  aunt  in  acid 
tones. 

But  there  were  several  people  present,  and  it  was 
obvious  that  P.C.  Jobling's  resolution  had  caused  the 
general  opinion  to  veer  round  once  again  in  his  favor. 

"  Good  lad,"  said  an  aged  gentleman.  "  Find  out 
all  you  can.  Thieves  an'  robbers  they'll  be,  I 
reckon.  Tell  p'liceman  what  you  'eard,  Mary." 

Mary,  one  of  the  maids  at  Dunwater  Park,  spoke 
up,  pleased  at  occupying  a  position  of  public  impor- 
tance. 

"  They're  gold  hoarders,  Mr.  Jobling,"  she  said. 
"  The  mistress  an'  Lootenant  Allen  was  there  yester- 
day an'  saw  it." 

"  Ah,"  put  in  somebody,  "  an'  where  do  they  get 
their  food  from,  eh?  Not  in  the  village,  nor  yet 
from  London.  You  go  an'  'ave  a  look  round,  Artie. 
an'  if  you  come  back  all  right  you'll  be  made  a 
sergeant." 

"Why  shouldn't  I  come  back  all  right?"  de- 
manded Artie,  with  a  chill  at  his  spine.  u  Miss  Fitz- 
Peter  did." 

"  She's  quality  —  they  wouldn't  dare  touch  *er." 

P.C.  Jobling  returned  to  his  cottage  in  a  despond- 
ent mood.  There  was  no  going  back  for  him  now 


P.C.  JOBLING  INVESTIGATES        197 

he  had  burnt  his  boats.  All  the  old  ladies  of  the 
allage  would  be  on  duty  behind  the  curtained  win- 
dows to  see  him  start  on  his  quest.  Struck  with  self- 
compassion  he  prepared  himself  a  more  than  usually 
lavish  meal,  just  in  case  it  should  be  his  last.  Then 
he  smoked  a  reflective  pipe.  The  sun  was  hot,  and  a 
comfortable  drowsiness  began  to  steal  over  him.  .  . 
His  head  nodded.  .  .  .  For  a  second  or  two  he 
dozed  off.  .  .  .  Then,  suddenly  wakeful,  he  put  on 
•his  helmet  and  started  out,  feeling  every  inch  a  hero. 
The  village  street  was  deserted  except  for  a  dog 
asleep  in  the  very  middle  of  it;  but  Jobling  knew 
that  he  was  performing  under  the  eyes  of  an  apprais- 
ing and  critical  public.  He  walked  as  jauntily  as  his 
official  boots  would  allow,  his  head  well  back  and  his 
chest  well  out. 

As  soon  as  he  was  clear  of  the  village,  however, 
and  had  reached  the  stretch  of  lonely  road  leading  to 
the  Manor  gates,  his  pace  slackened  and  his  chest 
deflated  suddenly.  He  began  to  recall  all  the  wild 
and  vaguely  terrific  rumors  about  the  people  at  Den- 
more  and  his  heroism  oozed  slowly  out  of  his  back- 
bone. When  he  came  at  last  in  sight  of  the  gates 
themselves,  he  stopped  stock  still  on  the  road  and 
wrestled  fiercely  with  himself. 

Supposing  he  turned  tail  now,  would  he  ever  be 
able  to  live  it  down  in  the  village?  He  thought  of 
his  aunt's  tongue  —  of  Mrs.  Green's  wicked  old 
face  as  she  talked  to  her  wicked  old  crony  in  the 
street  —  of  Bobby  Myers'  taunt,  and  he  knew  that 
whatever  lay  before  him  would  be  the  lesser  of  two 


198  ALFS  BUTTON 

evils.  He  reached  the  gates  and  paused  once  more, 
as  though  he  could  see  written  above  them  in  letters 
of  fire  "  All  hope  abandon,  ye  who  enter  here." 
Then  with  shaking  knees  he  passed  in  and  up  the 
gloomy  avenue. 

Alf  chanced  to  be  looking  out  of  a  window  over- 
looking the  drive,  and  saw  him  as  he  turned  the 
corner. 

"  Lumme !  "  he  called  to  Bill.     "  The  police !  " 

"  Let  'em,"  responded  Bill  lazily.  He  was  lying 
back  on  a  long  chair,  with  his  beloved  flagon  beside 
him;  and  the  indefatigable  Lucy,  garbed  like  Solo- 
mon in  all  his  glory,  was  fanning  him  with  enthu- 
siasm. "  Let  'em,"  he  repeated,  and  closed  <his  eyes 
happily. 

"  But  look  'ere,  what  can  'e  want?  An'  'sposin' 
'e  wants  to  know  'oo  we  are?  " 

"  Tell  'im,"  said  Bill,  "  Mr.  Wentworth  an'  'is 
friend,  Mr.  Montmorency,  of  Denmore  Manor." 

"  But  if  'e  wants  to  see  our  papers?  " 

Bill  sat  up  with  a  spasm  of  energy. 

'What's  it  matter  what  'e  wants,  you  chump? 
You're  a  blinkin'  landowner  now,  an'  p'licemen  don't 
matter.  Be  'aughty  with  'im  an'  kick  'im  out." 

11  You'd  better  see  'im,  Bill." 

"  Me?"  Bill  sank  back  once  more  on  his  cush- 
ions. "  Why  should  I  do  yer  dirty  work?  I'm 
quite  comfortable  as  I  am.  See  'im  yerself,  an'  be 
'aughty  with  'im.  Call  'im  '  My  man  ' !  Probably 
'e  wants  a  subscription.  Give  'im  'arf-a-crown. 
On'y  you'd  better  'urry  down  before  Mustapha  gets 


P.C.  JOBLING  INVESTIGATES        199 

'old  of  'im  an'  gives  'im  a  few  bags  o'  gold;  that'd 
put  us  fair  in  the  cart.  Keep  the  fan  goin',  Lucy,  my 
dear." 

Alf  tore  down  the  stairs  and  met  P.C.  Jobling  on 
the  steps  of  the  Manor.  Each  made  great  outward 
show  of  boldness,  but  it  would  be  difficult  to  say 
which  felt  less  bold  in  his  heart.  There  was  an 
awkward  pause. 

UW  —  w  —  well,"  said  Alf  at  last,  mindful  of 
Bill's  advice.  "  Wh  —  what  can  I  do  for  you  —  er 
—  my  man?  " 

The  words  were  haughty  enough  to  show  the  most 
imposing  of  policemen  his  position  in  the  scheme  of 
things;  but  the  tone  in  which  they  were  uttered 
entirely  spoilt  their  effect.  P.C.  Jobling  took  heart 
of  grace  and  puffed  out  his  admirably  developed 
chest. 

"  It  is  my  dooty  to  inform  you,  sir,  that  you  'ave 
several  exceedingly  bright  lights  showin'  from  yer 
'ouse  at  nights,  contrary  to  regulations." 

"  I'm  —  I'm  sorry,"  stammered  Alf,  relieved  that 
the  policeman  had  come  on  so  trivial  an  errand,  but 
disturbed  at  having  incurred  the  notice  of  the  Law. 
"  If  you'll  wait  'arf  a  second  I'll  'ave  my  butler  in 
an'  tick  'im  orf  for  it.  'Ere,  miss,"  he  said  to  a 
dusky  but  decorously  clad  maidservant,  "  send  Mr. 
Farr.  Savvy?" 

The  maid,  catching  the  name,  sped  off.  P.C. 
Jobling,  feeling  now  quite  reassured  that  his  life  was 
in  no  danger,  began  to  sigh  (like  Alexander  the 
Great)  for  fresh  worlds  to  conquer.  He  knew  that 


200  ALPS  BUTTON 

if  he  penetrated  no  further  than  the  Manor's  outer 
defenses  it  would  go  hard  with  him  when  next  he 
faced  'his  aunt. 

He  took  off  his  helmet  and  mopped  his  moist 
brow. 

"  'Ot  day,  ain't  it,  sir?  "  he  said. 

Alf,  whose  chief  rule  in  life  had  been  always  to 
keep  on  the  right  side  of  the  law,  swallowed  the 
bait  whole. 

"  It  is  'ot,"  he  agreed.  "  'Ow'd  a  glass  o'  beer 
be,  eh?" 

"  You're  very  kind,  sir." 

"  Not  a  bit  —  not  a  bit,  my  man."  This  time 
the  tone  was  much  better.  "  Farr,"  he  continued 
as  that  functionary  appeared.  "  'Ere's  the  police 
been  about  the  lights.  It's  quite  time  as  you  knew 
as  'ow  we  don't  'ave  to  show  no  lights  at  night. 
'Ave  'em  covered  to-night,  or  I'll  know  the  reason 
why.  An'  bring  this  gentleman  a  pint  of  beer." 

Mustapha  bowed  gravely  and  departed.  Now 
was  the  crafty  Jobling's  opportunity. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,"  he  said.  "  I  couldn't  let  'im  'ave 
all  that  trouble,  sir,  I'll  go  into  the  kitchen  myself, 
sir." 

He  was  across  the  hall  before  Alf  recovered  his 
wits.  The  master  of  Denmore  was  exceedingly 
proud  of  his  kitchens,  but  he  realized  in  a  flash  that 
no  minion  of  the  law  must  be  allowed  to  gaze  upon 
them.  The  Manor  kitchens  were  of  noble  propor- 
tions—  the  banqueting  hall  had  been  built  to  seat 
200  people,  and  the  cooking  accommodation  was  on 


P.C.  JOBLING  INVESTIGATES       201 

the  same  generous  scale  —  but  they  were  none  too 
big  for  Alf's  enormous  retinue.  Crowds  of  dusky 
workers  were  ceaselessly  engaged  on  the  preparation 
of  the  sumptuous  banquets  which  Messrs.  Montmor- 
ency  and  Wentworth  failed  dismally  to  appreciate; 
and  there  was  an  air  of  bustle  and  lavishness  and 
reckless  waste  about  the  whole  assembly.  Butchers 
might  be  seen  forever  slicing  up  carcasses  of  meat; 
pastry  cooks  and  confectioners  were  endlessly  intent 
on  the  concoction  of  wonderful  dainties;  scullions 
ceaselessly  carried  away  buckets  whose  contents  bore 
witness  to  an  utter  disregard  of  the  principles  of 
economy  and  the  possibility  of  by-products.  Even 
Alf,  who  knew  that  his  foodstuffs  were  drawn  from 
stocks  not  under  the  control  of  any  government  offi^ 
cial,  had  felt  a  twinge  of  conscience  when  he  had 
gazed  upon  the  scene.  And  now  the  round  eyes  of 
P.C.  Arthur  Jobling  would  be  taking  in  its  details; 
and  if  something  were  not  done  very  quickly,  the 
official  notebook  of  P.C.  Arthur  Jobling  would  be 
taking  those  details  in  to  ...  and  then  .  .  . 

Alf  snatched  at  the  Button  and  rubbed  it. 

"  Eustace,"  he  commanded  tersely.  "  Take  that 
blinkin'  policeman  out  of  the  kitchen  an'  put  'im  back 
where  'e  came  from." 

"  Lord,  I  hear  and  obey." 

Eustace  was  gone. 

"  'Ope  'e  'asn't  seen  too  much  already,"  solilo- 
quized Alf.  "  'Owever,  it's  done  now,  an'  I  don't 
suppose  'e'll  come  back  'ere  in  a  'urry.  Better  be 
on  the  safe  side,  though.  Mustapha,  tell  'em  to  be  t 


202  ALPS  BUTTON 

bit  more  careful  in  the  kitchen,  will  you?  If  the 
Food  Controller  comes  there'll  be  'ell  on." 

Mustapha  did  not  quite  get  the  hang  of  this 
remark;  but  he  did  gather  that  the  kitchens  under 
his  care  were  being  adversely  criticised.  He 
assumed  a  tone  of  deferential  remonstrance. 

"  Lord,  thy  kitchens  are  the  most  lavishly  fur- 
nished of  all  the  world;  thy  larders  are  stocked  from 
floor  to  ceiling  with  all  manner  of  rich  meats,  with 
rare  fruits,  with  spices,  with  grain  of  every  kind, 
so  that  whoso  should  see  them  would  say,  '  Truly 
the  lord  of  the  Button  is  a  great  Caliph,  for  what 
man  of  lesser  rank  could  make  so  brave  a  show.'  ' 

"  Well,  that's  just  what  I'm  grousin'  about,"  said 
Alf  irritably.  "  You're  just  as  'olesale  as  ole 
Eustace.  Put  the  stuff  away  out  o'  sight  somewhere, 
or  you'll  'ave  us  all  doing  time.  Step  lively  now; 
you  never  know  'oo's  goin'  to  pop  in  on  us  next." 

Mustapha,  feeling  he  was  losing 'his  grip  of  things, 
went  off  to  execute  this  latest  strange  command  of 
his  strange  master.  Alf  went  upstairs  again  to  Bill, 
feeling  rather  weak. 

As  for  P.C.  Arthur  Jobling,  in  the  very  act  of 
taking  out  his  official  notebook  he  found  himself 
sitting  once  more  in  the  chair  in  his  little  parlor. 
He  rubbed  his  eyes  and  blinked  around  him;  then  he 
seized  hold  of  his  own  arm  and  pinched  himself  — 
and,  leaping  to  his  feet  with  a  yell,  decided  he  was 
really  awake. 

"  Gorblimey !  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  Must  'ave 
been  a  dream!  I  must  'ave  dropped  off  arter  all. 


P.C.  JOBLING  INVESTIGATES       203 

I  remember  feelin'  mazed-like,  but  I  got  up  and  — 
no,  I  can't  'ave,  'cos  'ere  I  am.  Well,  well!  It  was 
that  life-dike  I  could  'a  sworn  it  'appened.  And 
'oardin' !  My  eye  —  piles  an'  piles  o'  food  there 
was.  P'raps  it's  a  'int  from  'Eaven  to  tell  me  what 
to  look  for.  Well,  if  I'm  goin'  it's  high  time  I 
started.  'Allo,  I  must  'ave  put  me  'elmet  on  in  me 
sleep !  " 

He  opened  the  door  and  stepped  into  the  street. 
Conscious  that  he  was  performing  under  critical 
and  appraising  eyes,  he  puffed  out  his  chest  and 
walked  as  jauntily  as  was  consistent  with  dignity  — 
and  behind  the  curtains  there  reigned  consternation; 
for  while  everybody  had  seen  him  start  out  half-an- 
hour  before,  nobody  had  seen  him  come  back;  and 
yet  here  he  was,  starting  out  again !  When  he 
cleared  the  village,  he  stopped  and  scratched  his 
head  uneasily. 

"  I'm  sure  I  done  all  this  before,"  he  sard  uneasily. 
"  That  blessed  dream  o'  mine  seems  to  be  with  me 
still." 

He  turned  up  the  dark  avenue,  and  the  eerie  feel- 
ing deepened.  His  knees  shook,  and  he  had  much 
ado  to  prevent  his  teeth  from  chattering,  but  he  went 
doggedly  on,  and  once  more  turned  the  corner. 

"  By  Gum,"  said  Alf  blankly,  "  'ere's  that  blinkin' 
copper  again.  I  can't  face  'im  again,  Bill.  You'll 
'ave  to  go." 

Bill,  who  had  reached  a  stage  where  even  his 
appetite  for  beer  had  been  temporarily  sated,  got 
up. 


204  ALFS  BUTTON 

"  Righto,"  he  said,  "  anything  to  oblige.  'E 
won't  find  no  food  this  time,  any'ow." 

He  lurched  downstairs  and  met  the  policeman  in 
the  drive.  Jobling  drew  a  breath  of  relief  at  finding 
that  he  was  received  by  a  stranger. 

"That  settles  it,"  he  said  to  himself.  " 'Twas 
on'y  a  dream.  That  black  butler  ain't  to  be  seen, 
neither.  It  is  my  dooty  to  inform  you,  sir," 
he  went  on  aloud  in  measured  official  tones,  "  that 
you  'ave  several  exceedingly  bright  lights  S'howin' 
from  yer  'ouse  at  nights,  contrary  to  regulations." 

"  'Ave  I  really,  ole  son?  "  said  Bill  breezily.  "  My 
mistake !  Come  right  in,  won't  you,  an'  'ave  a  drink 
while  I  see  about  it." 

Alf ,  watching  at  the  upper  window,  watched  them 
disappear,  with  a  puzzled  expression. 

"  Now,  why  the  'ell,"  he  asked  himself,  "  does  'e 
bother  to  tell  the  tale  about  them  lights  over  again? 
That's  on'y  cammyflage,  'cause  it  must  be  the  food 
'e's  come  about  this  time.  'E  must  think  we're 
mugs  if  'e  tries  to  do  us  with  the  same  yarn 
twice.  .  .  .  Wonder  what's  'appening?  " 

He  gazed  moodily  out  of  the  window  in  a  state  of 
great  suspense.  But  he  had  not  long  to  wait. 
There  came  a  sound  of  some  one  running  swiftly  in 
heavy  boots;  and  P.C.  Jobling  appeared,  with  eyes 
staring  in  terror,  fleeing  down  the  drive  as  though 
pursued  by  the  Furies.  Alf  watched  him  out  of 
sight,  and  turned  in  amazement  as  Bill  staggered  into 
the  room  and  collapsed  on  his  divan,  weak  with 
laughter. 


P.C.  JOBLING  INVESTIGATES       205 

"  What's  'appened,  Bill?     What  you  done?  " 

"  Me?  Nothin'.  I  tookjim  an'  showed  'im  the 
kitchens,  all  as  bare  as  a  board  —  an'  just  as  we 
turns  to  come  out  we  meets  Mr.  Farr  comin'  in. 
The  minute  the  copper  sees  Farr  'e  gives  a  yell  an' 
about-turns  an'  legs  it  so  you  couldn't  see  'is  coat- 
tails  for  'eel-plates!  Laugh?  I  laughed  meself 
dry.  Get  me  another,  Lucy !  " 

But  Alf  looked  grave. 

"  I  don't  like  it,"  he  said  in  a  troubled  voice. 
"  I  do  'ate  monkeyin'  about  with  the  p'lice.  This 
ain't  goin'  to  do  us  no  good,  you  mark  my  words !  " 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MR.  FARR'S  MISGUIDED  ZEAL 

AFTER  breakfast  on  the  following  Friday 
Allen  approached  Isobel  solemnly. 

"  May  I  speak  to  you  for  one  moment,  please, 
Commandant?"  he  asked,  in  portentously  official 
tones. 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Allen,"  she  replied  in  the  same 
manner.  "  Come  into  the  office." 

She  led  the  way  into  the  not  very  tidy  sanctum 
from  which  she  conducted  the  voluminous  corre- 
spondence with  various  military  bodies  which  formed 
a  large  share  in  her  work  in  the  Dunwater  Park 
Auxiliary  Hospital  for  Officers.  She  sat  down  at 
her  desk  and  stirred  some  papers  with  an  air  of 
importance. 

"  You  find  me  very  busy,"  she  intimated  austerely. 
"  But  I  can  give  you  a  moment.  What  can  I  do  for 
you?" 

Allen,  as  befitted  one  in  the  presence  of  authority, 
came  to  attention. 

"  Please,"  said  he  humbly,  "  I  want  leave  to  go 
up  to  town  by  the  noon  train." 

"  But  Sister's  the  person  who  runs  the  leave 
department." 

"  Yes,  but  she's  gone  up  herself  by  the  early 

train." 

206 


MR.  FARR'S  MISGUIDED  ZEAL     207 

"  So  she  has.  Well,  what's  your  reason  for  this 
dreadful  request?  " 

"  I  want,"  said  Allen,  his  eyes  twinkling,  "  to  buy 
myself  an  engagement  ring." 

Isobel  managed  to  preserve  her  severity  with  an 
effort. 

"  Really,"  she  replied;  "  I  don't  think  that  is  at 

all  a  good  reason.     The  War   Office   discourages 
»» 

"  Very  well ;  then  I'll  buy  you  one  in  the  village. 
I  saw  a  sweet  thing  in  diamonds  and  sapphires  yes- 
terday —  only  one-and-six." 

"  Don't  forget  that  it's  to-day  that  Mr.  Went- 
worth's  coming  to  tea.  Are  you  going  to  desert 
him?" 

"  I  am.     I  can't  behave  in  his  presence." 

"  Here's  your  half-fare  voucher,  then." 

"  Thank  you,  -darling." 

"  Hush !  Stop  it !  Go  away  —  some  one  might 
come  in.  Patients  mustn't  kiss  commandants.  It 
isn't  discipline." 

"  It  w.:uld  be,  with  some  commandants.  Well, 
good  luck  to  the  tea-party.  And  if  Wentworth 
offers  any  more  thousand-pound  notes,  just  remember 
you've  me  to  support  now,  and  accept." 

"  I  do  hope  he  won't  do  anything  awful,"  said 
Isobel  anxiously.  "  I  asked  him  for  to-day  because 
I  thought  there'd  be  nobody  here  that  mattered,  and 
of  course  Lady  Anderson  would  take  the  oppor- 
tunity to  come  and  look  round  on  that  exact  day." 

"Who's  she?" 


208  ALPS  BUTTON 

Isobel  sighed. 

"  She  is  my  Hated  Rival,"  she  explained.  "  That 
is,  I'm  hers.  She  also  runs  an  officers'  hospital,  and 
she's  coming  over  to  see  how  I  run  mine.  She  dis- 
approves of  me  altogether  —  always  has  —  and 
now  she's  furiously  jealous  about  the  hospital,  so  we 
are  in  for  a  nice  time.  She's  father's  pet  aversion, 
too." 

"  Thank  God  I've  picked  to-day  to  go  to  town!  " 
said  Allen  piously.  "  I  wish  you  joy  of  your  day." 

She  smiled  mournfully. 

"  Get  back  early  and  comfort  me." 

Alf  was  not  looking  forward  with  pleasure  to  his 
afternoon,  either.  All  the  morning  a  sense  of  the 
importance  of  the  impending  function  weighed  upon 
his  mind;  and  as  the  day  wore  on  the  more  particular 
problem  of  what  clothes  to  wear  refused  to  be  either 
settled  or  banished. 

Immediately  after  lunch  he  went  to  his  bedroom 
and,  spreading  out  his  entire  wardrobe  before  him, 
spent  an  hour  in  an  agony  of  indecision.  Finally  he 
went  to  Bill  and  implored  his  help. 

Bill  was  heavily  occupied  with  his  flagon  and  his 
handmaid  and  at  first  refused  to  apply  his  intellect 
to  the  matter  at  all;  but  the  mere  idea  of  having  to 
solve  the  insistent  sartorial  problem  unaided  drove 
Alf  into  desperation.  He  pleaded  and  threatened 
until  Bill  rose  in  disgust  from  his  divan  and,  with 
Lucy  following,  went  into  Alf's  room. 

"  A  nursemaid  is  what  you  wants,  Alf,"  he  said 


MR.  FARR'S  MISGUIDED  ZEAL     209 

bitterly.  "  I  never  see  such  a  blinkin'  kid  as  you  in 
my  life.  I  should  have  thought  you'd  have  known 
what's  what  at  your  age  better'n  to  'ave  to  come 
runnin'  to  me  about  it.  'Owever  .  .  ." 

He  sat  down  on  the  bed  and  regarded  the  wild  con- 
fusion of  clothes  with  lofty  scorn. 

'  Well,"  said  Alf  —  his  agitation  lending  a  touch 
of  asperity  to  his  tone  — "  instead  of  talkin'  like 
that,  s'spose  you  get  on  with  it.  What  ought  I  to 
wear?  " 

Bill  sniffed  scornfully. 

'  Why,"  he  said  breezily,  "  a  pot  'at,  o'  course, 
and  them  black  things  o'  yours.  You  can't  go  wrong 
that  way." 

"  I  thought  you'd  say  that,"  answered  Alf 
dejectedly.  "  I  was  'opin'  as  'ow  a  straw  'at  might 
—  them  black  things  is  that  'ot  I  can't  'ardly  breathe. 
'Owever,  I  s'pose  yer  right." 

He  began  to  sort  out  his  garments  of  ceremony 
from  the  pile  before  him. 

"  Don't  forget  your  spats,"  said  Bill.  He 
settled  himself  more  comfortably  on  the  bed. 
'  'Ere,  Lucy,  my  dear,  come  over  'ere  beside  me." 

"  Oh,  indeed,"  said  Alf,  realizing  her  presence  for 
the  first  time.  "  No,  you  don't.  I  don't  'ave  no 
females  in  my  room  while  I'm  dressing." 

"  Don't  trouble  yerself  about  that,"  replied  Bill 
airily.  "  Carry  on.  Lucy  won't  mind." 

Alf  stared  with  strong  disapprobation  at  Lucy, 
who  smiled  coyly  at  him  and  displayed  a  large 
expanse  of  bare  leg. 


210  ALFS  BUTTON 

"  No,"  he  agreed  in  a  meaning  tone.  "  Lucy 
wouldn't  mind.  I  ain't  bothering  about  Lucy, 
though.  It's  me  as  minds.  Tell  'er  to  'op  it  at 
once,  Bill  Grant,  an'  think  shame  of  yerself.  I 
dunno  what  the  'ell's  come  to  yer." 

Bill,  however  unwillingly,  was  constrained  to  bow 
before  Alf's  outraged  modesty,  and  Lucy  accordingly 
withdrew.  Then  Alf  proceeded  to  dress  himself. 
A  struggle  with  a  stiff  and  terribly  high  collar  made 
both  Alf  himself  and  his  temper  exceedingly  hot; 
but  at  last  the  operation  was  over.  He  placed  his 
glossy  topper  on  his  head  and  displayed  himself  for 
his  friend's  inspection. 

Bill  looked  him  over  minutely  and  critically. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  at  length.  "  Yes,  you  looks  all 
right.  Seems  to  me  you  wants  brightening  up 
some'ow.  I  know!  'Old  on  'arf  a  mo." 

He  went  out  of  the  room  and  returned  a  moment 
later  with  something  rolled  up  in  his  hand. 

"  This  is  what  you  want  to  brighten  yer  up,"  he 
said  confidently.  "  This'll  fair  knock  'em." 

He  unrolled  the  object  in  his  hand.  It  was  his 
pictorial  waistcoat. 

Alf  looked  askance  at  it. 

"  I  dunno  .  .  ."  he  began  feebly. 

"  Put  it  on,  you  blinkin'  idjit,"  said  the  waistcoat's 
owner  with  sudden  heat.  "  Why,  it'll  make  all  the 
difference.  Just  what  you  want." 

"  But  perhaps   she  won't  like   it,"   objected   the 
love-sick  swain. 
"  More  fool  she,  if  she  don't.     But  she  will.     I 


MR.  FARR'S  MISGUIDED  ZEAL     211 

knows     what     the     nobs     likes.     You     trust    me." 

Alf,  reassured  and  over-persuaded  by  Bill's  tone 
o-f  easy  confidence,  put  on  the  gorgeous  garment,  and 
then,  ready  at  last,  he  went  downstairs  prepared  for 
a  very  hot  and  uncomfortable  walk  to  Dunwater. 
Bill  followed ;  but  finding  Lucy  waiting  for  her  mas- 
ter outside  Alf's  bedroom  door  with  a  full  flagon  in 
her  hand,  he  with  the  faithful  damsel  disappeared 
forthwith  in  the  direction  of  his  divan,  and  was  no 
more  seen. 

As  Alf  opened  the  front  door  he  started  back  in 
surprise  and  swore  deeply  anc*  inexcusably.  The 
drive  was  full  of  brightly  colored  figures.  All  his 
immense  retinue  seemed  to  be  gathered  together 
waiting  for  him,  their  sober  garments  laid  aside  and 
their  richest  robes  put  on.  Six  motionless  figures 
mounted  on  magnificent  and  gayly  caparisoned  black 
horses  formed  the  center  of  the  group;  and  a 
seventh  horse,  even  more  gorgeously  bedight,  was 
being  led  up  and  down  by  a  coal-black  groom.  Alf's 
heart  sank.  Somebody  had  apparently  been  whole- 
sale once  more. 

"Farr!"  called  Alf  sharply.' 

Mustapha  came  forward.  He  was  clad  in  gar- 
ments so  encrusted  with  gems  that  they  crackled 
together  as  he  walked.  He  wore  the  air  of  the  good 
and  faithful  servant  about  to  receive  the  praise  he 
knows  to  be  well  merited. 

"What  the  'ell's  all  this  about?"  demanded  his 
master. 

"  Lord,"  replied  Mustapha,  his  face  radiating  a 


212  ALFS  BUTTON 

quiet  joy,  "  I  have  made  all  ready.  For  so  great 
a  day  it  is  meet  that  thou  should'st  be  surrounded 
with  all  magnificence,  that  the  father  of  the  maiden 
may  know  how  great  is  thy  wealth  and  power. 
Therefore  have  I  caused  to  be  prepared  a  con- 
course of  splendor  outdoing  even  that  of  the  great 
Prince  Aladdin  at  the  time  of  his  betrothal  to  the 
Princess  Badralbudour  —  upon  them  be  peace. 
Thus  shalt  thou  shine  in  beauty  as  the  full  moon 
upon  the  night  of  its  completion,  for  verily  the 
like  of  this  gathering  hath  not  been  seen  upon 
earth." 

"Umph!"  said  Alf.  He  reflected  that  Mus- 
tapha  seemed  very  fond  of  giving  himself  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  for  nothing. 

"  Furthermore,"  continued  Mustapha  serenely, 
"  thy  steed  awaits  thee.  For  speed  and  grace  he 
hath  not  his  equal  upon  earth;  black  is  he  as  a 
raven's  wing,  and  of  a  mettlesome  spirit  withal." 

Alf  glanced  at  the  prancing  steed.  He  had  only 
once  in  his  life  been  on  horseback.  That  had  been 
when  he  had  fallen  lame  on  a  route  march  and  had 
been  mounted  on  Captain  Richards'  patient  and 
war-weary  charger.  This  horse,  however,  seemed 
different.  There  was  more  life  about  it,  somehow. 

He  turned  to  Mustapha. 

"  Farr,"  he  said,  "  you  may  mean  well,  but 
there's  times  when  I  thinks  you  tries  to  be  aggra- 
vating. For  being  a  blinkin'  fool  you  'ave  not  yer 
equal  on  earth.  Now  you  can  just  wash  the  'ole 
thing  out  again  —  see?  I  don't  want  no  circus 


MR.  FARR'S  MISGUIDED  ZEAL 

v_* 

processions  round  me.     What  d'yer  take  me  for?  " 

Mustapha  bowed  low  and  then,  as  patiently  as 
though  he  were  explaining  to  a  child,  he  spoke. 

"  But,  lord,  it  is  thy  bodyguard,"  he  remon- 
strated. "  And  indeed  already  have  I  dispatched 
before  thee  a  concourse  of  incredible  richness." 

"  What?  "     Alf  clutched  his  hat  in  horror. 

"  There  have  gone  to  the  palace  of  the 
maiden's  father  other  forty  of  thy  slaves,  twenty 
white  and  twenty  black.  Upon  his  head  each  black 
slave  beareth  a  bowl  of  jewels  of  surpassing  worth, 
while  each  white  slave  as  he  goes  will  scatter  money 
amongst  the  people,  that  thy  popularity  may  be 
great  in  the  land.  With  them  are  musicians  to  dis- 
course sweet  sounds.  Even  now  they  pass  the 
outer  gate." 

At  that  moment  there  came,  borne  faintly  down 
the  breeze,  the  discordant  clash  of  distant  but  bar- 
baric music. 

"  Lumme !  "  said  Alf.  He  felt  wildly  for  his 
Button,  and,  as  the  whole  concourse  fell  prostrate 
on  its  face  at  sight  of  the  talisman,  'he  called  up 
Eustace  and  gave  him  excited  but  definite  orders. 
The  music  in  the  distance  stopped  suddenly,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  crowd  in  the  drive  (with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  chastened  Mustapha)  disappeared 
into  thin  air.  Alf,  desperately  anxious  to  get  away 
from  the  house  before  any  further  horrible  thing 
happened,  stood  not  upon  the  order  of  his  going, 
but  went  at  once  up  the  drive  full  of  anxiety  lest 
anybody  from  the  village  had  chanced  to  be  passing 


214  ALFS  BUTTON 

the  gates  at  the  moment  when  the  band  had  been 
so  ruthlessly  suppressed. 

As  he  turned  into  the  road  he  saw  the  massive 
blue  form  of  P.C.  Arthur  Jobling,  and  his  heart 
missed  a  beat.  But  the  policeman  was  a  pitiable 
sight.  His  helmet  had  fallen  off  and  lay  in  the 
road  beside  his  official  notebook,  and  he  was  gazing 
from  side  to  side  in  a  horrified  and  vacant  manner, 
as  though  he  were  searching  for  something  and  were 
terrified  lest  he  should  find  it.  Alf  was  reassured. 

"Good  afternoon  —  my  man,"  he  said  jauntily. 

Jobling  stared  at  him. 

"  G  —  good  afternoon,  sir,"  he  gulped.  "  Beg- 
gin'  yer  pardon,  sir,  but  do  you  'appen  to  'ave  sent  a 
—  a  sort  o'  procession  like,  with  a  band,  out  of  'ere?  " 

Alf  controlled  his  voice  with  difficulty,  but  man- 
aged to  keep  his  jaunty  tone. 

"  Do  I  look  like  it?  "he  said. 

Jobling  groaned. 

"  I'm  goin'  barmy!  "  he  muttered.  "  Look  'ere, 
sir,  as  a  great  favor,  like,  might  I  ask  yer  not  to 
tell  'em  in  the  village  what  I  asked  yer?  " 

"  Betcher  life !  "  answered  Alf  cheerily,  much  re- 
lieved at  this  unexpected  stroke  of  good  fortune. 
Then,  leaving  the  unfortunate  constable  to  collect 
his  property  and  what  remained  to  him  of  his  wits, 
Alf  set  out  for  Dunwater,  growing  at  every  step 
more  convinced  that,  whatever  clothes  might  be 
correct  for  an  afternoon  call  on  a  hot  day,  his  pres- 
ent get-up  was  hopelessly  wrong. 

As  he  passed  through  the  village  he  found  him- 


MR.  FARE'S  MISGUIDED  ZEAL     215 

self  the  object  of  much  interest  —  of  an  unmistak- 
ably hostile  kind.  On  every  side  unfriendly  faces 
scowled  at  him.  Knots  of  people  were  standing  in 
the  street,  and  as  he  passed  them  he  heard  a  con- 
fused medley  of  remarks  not  openly  intended  for 
his  ear,  but  evidently  to  his  address. 

"  Spy!  "  said  somebody. 

"  German !  "  supplemented  several  others. 

"Food'oarder!" 

Finally  as  he  passed  the  post-office  Mrs.  Rudd's 
voice  might  have  been  heard  through  the  open  door 
upraised  in  some  denunciation  of  which  Higgins 
caught  only  two  words: 

".  .  .  Scotland  Yard.  .  .  ." 

Alf  was  devoutly  thankful  when  at  last  the  vil- 
lage was  passed  and  the  road  to  Dunwater  lay  before 
him.  As  he  plodded  along  the  hot  road  he  pondered 
dully  what  sinister  events  those  two  words  "  Scot- 
land Yard  "  might  portend.  He  was  worried  for  a 
moment;  but  then  his  arrival  in  sight  of  the  Dun- 
water  Park  gates  drove  all  worries  other  than  those 
of  etiquette  from  his  mind.  What  ought  he  to  do 
when  he  arrived?  What  ought  he  to  say?  How 
did  one  address  baronets?  He  wanted  to  make  a 
really  memorable  first  impression  on  Isobel's  father 
—  but  how?  Of  course,  if  he  had  left  himself  to  be 
guided  by  Mustapha's  ideas,  his  first  impression 
would  have  been  only  too  memorable. 

"  Pity  ole  Farr's  so  bloomin'  'olesale,"  mused  Alf, 
"  because  it  wasn't  'arf  a  bad  notion  me  bringing 
ole  FitzPeter  a  bit  of  a  present,  but  Fair  always 


216  ALFS  BUTTON 

plasters  it  on  so  bloomin'  thick.  .  .  .  But  lumme, 
what's  to  prevent  me?  .  .  .  That's  a  bit  of  an  idea 
—  never  thought  o'  that.  I'll  do  it." 

He  glanced  cautiously  up  and  down  the  road. 
Nobody  was  in  sight.  He  climbed  through  the 
hedge  at  the  roadside  and  found  himself  in  a  little, 
dark  wood. 

"  Just  the  place,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  Now  for 
Eustace." 

Unbuttoning  his  tightly  fitting  garments,  he  fished 
out  the  Button  and  rubbed  it.  ... 

Meanwhile,  on  the  lawn  at  Dunwater  Park, 
strange  events  had  been  taking  place.  A  large 
party  was  gathered  together,  but  instead  of  the 
merry  gabble  of  voices  and  laughter  which  char- 
acterized the  tea-hour  as  a  rule,  a  solemn  silence 
brooded  over  the  scene.  A  blight  had  fallen  over 
the  entire  gathering.  Light-hearted  and  empty- 
headed  subalterns,  whose  whole  duty  in  the  scheme 
of  things  had  till  now  been  the  outpouring  of  frothy 
nonsense,  sat  mum  and  miserable.  Tea  had  not 
yet  appeared. 

Dominating  the  scene  and  acting  as  a  sort  of  High 
Priestess  of  Blight,  was  a  small,  gray-haired  woman, 
sitting  bolt  upright  in  a  basket-chair,  and  gazing 
about  in  an  acidulated  manner.  This  was  Lady  An- 
derson. She  had  come  over  —  as  Isobel  had  fore- 
seen—  manifestly  with  the  intention  of  drawing 
odious  comparisons  between  her  own  hospital  and 
Isobel's.  She  had  brought  with  her  two  dispirited 


MR.  FARR'S  MISGUIDED  ZEAL     217 

patients  —  a  sapper  major  and  an  infantry  captain 
—  who  were  both  sitting  well  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
group.  Sir  Edward  FitzPeter,  upon  whom  Lady 
Anderson  always  had  an  infuriating  effect,  had 
joined  these  two,  in  order,  like  them,  to  be  as  far 
away  from  her  ladyship  as  possible. 

A  terrible  silence  fell,  which  was  broken  only  by 
a  whispered  remark  from  one  of  the  more  irre- 
pre-ssible  spirits  that  he  was  suffering  from  "  septic 
melancholia/' 

It  hardly  seemed  humanly  possible  that  one  per- 
son could,  unaided,  have  reduced  this  usually  light- 
hearted  —  not  to  say  boisterous  —  gathering  to  such 
a  pitch  of  gloom.  Sister  looked  as  if  she  might 
at  any  moment  give  up  the  unequal  contest  and 
burst  into  tears. 

Isobel  looked  round  her  miserable  party  and 
sighed.  She  had  spent  a  strenuous  afternoon  with 
the  Wet  Blanket,  and  was  weary  in  body  and  mind. 
Lady  Anderson  had  started  by  inspecting  the  ground 
floor  arrangements  of  the  Hospital,  and  had  with 
diabolical  ingenuity  succeeded  in  finding  or  inventing 
some  damning  flaw  in  each;  afterwards,  it  had  been 
the  pleasant  duty  of  Isobel  and  Sister  to  exhibit  the 
more  intimate  and  important  domestic  machinery, 
and  give  their  visitor  an  opportunity  of  expressing 
(under  a  very  thin  veil  of  acid  politeness)  her  dis- 
approbation of  their  methods  here  also. 

It  was  a  dreary  outlook.  The  only  ray  of  hope 
that  Isobel  could  see  was  in  the  knowledge  that  the 
infliction  could  not  last  much  longer.  On  ;her  ar- 


218  ALPS  BUTTON 

rival  the  Wet  Blanket  had  announced  that  she  must 
leave  early,  as  it  appeared  she  had  promised  to  go 
and  blight  somebody  else  that  afternoon.  But  tea 
had  not  yet  come;  and  Isobel  began  to  fear  that, 
if  the  atmosphere  progressed  in  gloom  at  its  present 
rate,  some  of  her  more  nervous  patients  would  be 
driven  to  commit  suicide  in  the  ornamental  pond. 

At  last,  when  nobody  but  Isobel  herself  had  made 
the  slightest  attempt  to  speak  for  nearly  five  minutes, 
Barnby,  the  butler,  appeared  with  tea,  followed  by 
two  maids  with  trays  and  cake-stands.  He  was  just 
in  time  to  save  his  mistress  from  committing  the 
social  solecism  of  uttering  a  loud  scream.  He  also 
furnished  Lady  Anderson  with  further  material  for 
acid  comment. 

Fixing  her  lorgnette  (an  instrument  of  torture 
with  which  she  did  dire  execution)  on  her  nose,  she 
eyed  the  approaching  procession  with  pained  sur- 
prise. Then,  turning  to  Isobel,  she  informed 
her : 

1 i )  That  in  her  opinion  it  was  a  fundamental 
error*to  have  tea  out  of  doors.     Men  did  not  like  it. 
At  her  hospital  tea  invariably  took  place  indoors, 
whatever  the  weather. 

(The  two  dispirited  officers  she  had  brought  with 
her  caught  one  another's  eye  at  this  point  and 
exchanged  a  wan  smile.) 

(2)  That  in  her  opinion  it  was  a  fundamental 
error  to  run  a  hospital  with  servants.     Men  did  not 
like  it.     At  her  hospital  all  the  work  was  done  by 
V.A.D.'S  —  so  much  pleasanter. 


MR.  FARR'S  MISGUIDED  ZEAL     219 

(Another  wan  smile,  hardly  complimentary  to  the 
V.A.D.'s, —  was  exchanged.) 

"  But,  of  course,  dear  Miss  FitzPeter,"  concluded 
the  lady;  "here  they  have  you.  How  could  they 
ask  more  than  that ?  " 

She  left  no  room  for  doubt  in  the  minds  of  her 
audience  that  in  her  private  opinion  one  could  ask  a 
great  deal  more  than  that.  At  that  moment,  any 
one  of  the  thirty  or  so  people  present  would  cheer- 
fully have  drowned  or  strangled  the  speaker,  but 
nobody  was  bold  or  rash  enough  to  engage  her  in 
wordy  warfare.  Isobel,  heroically  preserving  a 
dogged  society  smile,  was  devoutly  thankful  that 
Denis  was  not  there  to  do  battle  for  her.  He  would 
only  have  made  matters  infinitely  worse.  As  it  was 
she  was  anxious  about  Sir  Edward,  who  was  fidgeting 
on  his  chair,  obviously  only  prevented  from  an  explo- 
sion by  his  sense  of  duty  as  host. 

Fortunately  a  diversion  occurred  in  the  shape  of 
the  vicar  and  his  wife,  and  Isobel  breathed  -an  audi- 
ble sigh  of  relief.  She  had  little  love  for  Mrs. 
Davies,  but  on  this  occasion  there  was  nobody  whom 
she  would  more  gladly  'have  seen,  for  she  knew  that 
the  task  of  entertaining  Lady  Anderson  would  now 
be  transferred  to  other  and  enthusiastic  hands. 
Mrs.  Davies  had  for  Lady  Anderson  a  passionate 
regard  almost  amounting  to  adulation  —  a  regard 
which  the  cantankerous  old  dame  made  no  attempt 
to  reciprocate.  This  fact  failed  utterly  to  dash  Mrs. 
Davies ;  snubs  and  slights  slid  off  her  back  like  butter 
from  a  hot  stove,  and  she  continued  on  every  possible 


220  ALPS  BUTTON 

occasion  to  absorb  large  quantities  of  blacking  from 
Lady  Anderson's  shoes  with  every  appearance  of 
delight. 

On  seeing  the  little,  black-clad  figure  now  she 
rushed  forward,  hardly  noticing  Isobel  at  all  in  her 
eagerness. 

"  Dear  Lady  Anderson,"  she  cooed.  u  How  per- 
fectly delightful  to  see  you  and  how  sweet  you  look." 

Here  one  of  the  patients,  a  callow  second- 
lieutenant  with  an  imperfect  command  of  feature, 
guffawed,  and  had  hastily  to  simulate  a  painful 
cough.  Mrs.  Davies'  choice  of  epithet  was  certainly 
unfortunate,  and  Lady  Anderson  herself  appeared 
to  feel  this,  for  she  was  more  than  ordinarily 
brusque  in  her  manner. 

"  Umph !  "  she  said.     "  Sit  down,  do." 

Mrs.  Davies  obeyed  with  alacrity  and  proceeded 
to  take  entire  possession  of  her  idol,  sitting  very 
far  forward  on  her  chair,  bending  her  body  to  a 
servile  curve  and  prefacing  every  remark  with 
"  Dear  Lady  Anderson."  This  treatment  appeared 
to  agree  with  the  lady,  for  she  ceased  for  the  time 
being  to  terrorize  the  assembled  company  and 
allowed  herself  to  be  drawn  into  a  conversation  in 
which,  while  not  going  to  the  length  of  being  amiable, 
she  did  at  least  refrain  from  being  actively  objec- 
tionable. Gradually  the  gloom  cleared,  until  some- 
thing like  the  usual  cheery  babble  was  to  be  heard. 

Over  her  cup  of  tea  Lady  Anderson  thawed  yet 
more.  A  sour  smile  appeared  on  her  face. 

"  Well,"  she  said  to  the  vicar's  wife,  "  and 
what's  the  latest  bit  of  gossip  in  Denmore?  " 


MR.  FARR'S  MISGUIDED  ZEAL     221 

Mrs.  Davies  looked  pained. 

"  Dear  Lady  Anderson,"  she  gushed  reproach- 
fully, "  you  will  have  your  little  joke !  You  know 
how  I  hate  gossip  of  all  kinds." 

'k  Yes,"  said  the  old  lady  dryly,  "  I  know." 

"  But  there  is  one  thing  about  which  I  think  every- 
body ought  to  be  told.  The  Vicar  and  I  have  kept 
silence  until  now,  because  —  er  —  because  the  time 
was  not  ripe." 

Isobel  leant  forward  with  interest.  At  last  the 
meaning  of  the  parson's  mysterious  visit  of  the  other 
day  was  to  be  cleared  up. 

"  I  refer,"  continued  Mrs.  Davies  firmly, 
"to  .  .  ." 

Exactly  as  she  had  done  on  the  previous  occasion, 
the  speaker  stopped  suddenly  in  the  middle  of  her 
sentence  as  though  an  invisible  hand  had  been 
clapped  over  her  mouth. 

They  waited  for  a  space  in  suspense. 

"  Well?  "  said  Lady  Anderson  at  last. 

"  I  refer,"  began  Mrs.  Davies  once  more,  uneasily, 
"  to  .  .  ." 

Dead  silence  again.  Lady  Anderson  showed 
signs  of  losing  her  temper,  never  her  securest  posses- 
sion at  the  best  of  times.  The  prospect  of  incurring 
the  great  lady's  wrath  impelled  Mrs.  Davies  to 
struggle  with  the  mysterious  ban  that  seemed  to  be 
laid  upon-  her  speech.  Three  more  attempts  to 
explain  herself  did  she  make;  and  when  the  last  of 
these  had  failed  a  kind  of  hysteria  seemed  to  seize 
Mrs.  Davies.  She  mouthed  impotently,  gasping 
like  a  fish,  but  no  sound  came  forth.  Lady  Ander- 


222  ALF'S  BUTTON 

son  stared  at  her  in  malevolent  amazement,  while 
a  monstrous  suspicion  grew  in  her  mind. 

"Are  you  ill?"  she  said  sharply.  It  is  hard  to 
^explain  exactly  how  she  succeeded  in  making  these 
words,  in  themselves  innocuous,  convey  an  insinua- 
tion of  insobriety;  but  the  fact  remains  that  it  was 
clear  to  Isobel  and  Sister  (who  fortunately  were  the 
only  spectators  of  the  scene,  the  rest  having  all 
unostentatiously  edged  away  from  Lady  Anderson's 
sphere  of  influence)  that  no  other  meaning  could 
have  been  intended.  Indeed,  it  penetrated  even  the 
bemused  brain  of  Mrs.  Davies  herself,  and  com- 
pleted her  demoralization. 

She  stretched  out  a  shaking  hand. 

"  Dear  Lady  Anderson,"  she  began. 

"  Don't  touch  me,"  snapped  that  lady,  at  last 
losing  all  control  of  her  rising  temper.  "  I  will  be 
charitable,  Mrs.  Davies,  and  suppose  that  you  have 
got  a  touch  of  sunstroke;  but  in  any  case  I  will  not 
remain  here  to  be  made  a  fool  of.  Good  afternon, 
Miss  FitzPeter." 

"  Oh,  must  you  really  go?"  murmured  Isobel, 
with  a  feeling  that  it  was  too  good  to  be  true,  and 
taking  care  not  to  allow  enough  warmth  to  creep  into 
her  voice  to  give  Lady  Anderson  any  excuse  for 
changing  her  mind.  Sir  Edward  bustled  forward 
to  perform  the  highly  congenial  duty  of  seeing  the 
Wet  Blanket  off  the  premises;  but  she  declined  his 
aid  and  went  off  in  a  raging  passion,  her  two 
cowed  and  apprehensive  patients  following  at  her 
heels. 


MR.  FARE'S  MISGUIDED  ZEAL      223 

Meanwhile  the  Vicar,  who  had  mixed  with  the 
crowd  and  had  been  happily  engaged  in  discussing 
cricket  with  four  or  five  other  enthusiasts,  became 
aware  of  'his  wife's  voice  calling  hysterically  for 
him. 

"  Julian  1  Julian !  Take  me  home.  Where's 
my  husband?  " 

"  Here,  my  dear,"  he  said,  blundering  across 
chairs  and  tripping  over  feet  in  his  haste.  "  What 
is  it?" 

"  Take  me  home !  " 

"  But  .  .  ." 

"  It's  all  right,  Mr.  Davies,"  said  the  quiet  voice 
of  Sister  in  his  ear.  "  Your  wife  has  been  a  little 
upset  by  Lady  Anderson,  and  I  think  she'll  feel 
better  at  home." 

"  Dear,  dear !  "  the  Vicar  muttered  in  distress. 
"  How  unfortunate  !  " 

He  knew  that  life  would  be  difficult  for  him  if 
Lady  Anderson  had  really  removed  the  light  of  her 
countenance  from  his  wife,  and  he  sighed  as  he  took 
her  arm  and  helped  her  away.  She  was  trembling 
violently  and  her  nerves  seemed  to  have  failed  her 
altogether  for  the  time  being. 

"  Oh  dear !  "  said  Isobel,  sinking  back  into  her 
chair  and  watching  the  two  receding  figures.  "  What 
a  day!  Poor  Mrs.  Davies  will  never  live  this  down, 
I'm  afraid!  What's  going  to  happen  next,  I 
wonder." 

She  was  not  allowed  to  wonder  long.  As  the 
Davies  family  reached  the  angle  of  the  house,  Barnby 


224  ALFS  BUTTON 

appeared;  behind  him  came  Alf,  perspiring  freely 
with  sheer  fright;  and  behind  him  again  came  two 
enormous  and  imperturbable  negroes,  dressed  in 
robes  of  shimmering  cloth  of  silver,  and  bearing 
each  on  his  head  an  enormous  chased  bowl  of 
gold. 

The  effect  of  the  little  cortege  on  Mrs.  Davies  was 
remarkable.  She  uttered  a  loud  scream,  tore  herself 
free  from  her  husband  and  shot  round  the  corner  at 
a  run.  The  Vicar,  who  had  lost  his  glasses  owing  to 
the  violence  of  his  wife's  departure,  groped  wildly 
for  them  and  then  disappeared  in  pursuit. 

"  I  believe  they  really  are  mad,"  said  Isobel  in  an 
undertone  to  Sister.  Then  she  came  forward  once 
more  to  greet  her  new  visitor.  But  Sir  Edward  was 
before  her. 

"  How  do  you  do !  "  he  said  heartily.  "  I  needn't 
ask  if  you  are  Mr.  Wentworth  —  your  escort  gives 
you  away!  I  suppose  my  daughter  told  you  I  was 
interested  in  things  oriental.  How  good  of  you  to 
think  of  bringing  these  fellows  for  me  to  see !  " 

He  trotted  up  to  the  negroes,  who  executed  a 
wonderful  simultaneous  salaam,  after  which,  rising 
on  to  one  knee,  they  held  out  their  bowls  towards 
him.  It  was  beautifully  done;  the  tea-party,  who 
had  quite  forgotten  the  gloom  of  the  earlier  pro- 
ceedings, and  were  watching  with  all  their  eyes, 
felt  that  they  ought  to  applaud.  Sir  Edward  was 
delighted. 

"  Magnificent!  "  he  said.  "  And  what  wonderful 
bowls !  I'd  no  idea  anything  so  fine  survived." 


MR.  FARR'S  MISGUIDED  ZEAL      225 

He  lifted  one  bowl  with  an  effort  and  examined  the 
chasing. 

"Marvelous!"  he  whispered. 

Alf,  whose  former  shyness  and  apprehension  had 
been  dispelled  like  a  cloud  of  smoke  in  a  strong  wind 
by  his  kindly  reception,  made  his  first  remark. 

"  They're  for  you,  sir,"  he  said.     "  A  present." 

"  Nonsense,  my  dear  fellow,  I  couldn't  possi- 
bly .  .  ." 

But  Alf  was  dismissing  his  two  servitors.  They 
understood  his  gestures,  and  went.  Sir  Edward 
determined  to  leave  the  question  of  the  bowls  until 
later.  The  collector's  greed  was  in  his  heart,  and 
perhaps  if  the  fellow  was  as  rich  as  he  seemed  he'd 
never  miss  them.  .  .  .  Ruminating,  he  followed 
Alf  to  the  tea-table,  where  Isobel  was  already  filling 
a  cup. 

Mr.  Wentworth,  now  quite  at  his  ease,  showed  a 
strong  desire  to  sit  by  his  hostess;  but  she  was  still 
too  worn  out  in  mind  to  cope  with  another  visitor. 
She  introduced  him,  therefore,  to  one  or  two  of  the 
officers  about  her  and  delivered  him  over  to  them. 

Alf  was  already  —  owing  to  the  mystery  which 
enveloped  him  —  a  local  celebrity;  and  now  he  found 
himself  a  popular  hero.  He  was  borne  off  round  the 
grounds  by  a  small  crowd  of  half-admiring,  half- 
amused  young  officers,  who  extracted  a  great  deal 
of  enjoyment  from  him  while  contriving  not  to  hurt 
his  feelings.  He  found  himself  on  terms  with  them 
such  as  he  could  never  have  dreamed  possible  in  the 
days  when  he  had  been  a  mere  private  with  a  con- 


226  ALPS  BUTTON 

viction  that  the  less  he  had  to  do  with  the  commis- 
sioned ranks  the  better  for  all  classes.  He  was 
encouraged  to  call  captains  by  their  simple  surnames 
and  to  venture  on  familiarities  with  subalterns;  and 
he  played  a  game  of  extraordinarily  bad  billiards 
which  (more  to  his  own  astonishment  than  his 
opponents')  he  won. 

When  at  last  he  returnetl  to  retrieve  his  top-hat 
and  to  take  his  leave,  he  was  jubilant.  In  the  past 
he  had  been  diffident;  but  gradually  his  confidence  in 
himself  and  his  new  powers  had  grown,  until  now 
he  was  triumphantly  sure  of  himself.  Nothing,  he 
felt,  could  stand  in  the  way  of  such  a  man  as  he  had 
shown  himself  to  be.  Immense  riches,  in  them- 
selves, need  lead  a  man  nowhere;  but  immense  riches 
combined  with  social  success  —  who  could  resist 
them?  He  had  been  accepted  by  these  people  as  an 
equal  and  a  friend;  from  that  to  being  accepted  by 
Isobel  as  a  lover  seemed  to  his  excited  brain  only 
a  step. 

In  the  veranda  stood  Isobel  herself,  talking  to  her 
father  and  another  man.  With  a  slight  throb  of 
misgiving  Alf  recognized  Lieutenant  Allen.  In  his 
usual  diffident  frame  of  mind,  he  would  have 
avoided  an  unnecessary  meeting  with  his  old  platoon- 
commander;  but  now,  intoxicated  as  he  was  by 
success,  he  greeted  a  spice  of  risk.  He  approached 
the  group.  Both  Isobel  and  Allen  looked  excited  — 
Alf  had  never  seen  his  lady  look  so  desirable,  or  felt 
her  so  approachable. 

"  'Ow  do,  Allen?"  he  said  with  such  an  air  of 


MR.  FARR'S  MISGUIDED  ZEAL     227 

jaunty  familiarity  that  the  others  stared  at  him  in 
sheer  surprise.  "  Pleased  to  see  you  again,  I'm 
sure.  Well,  I  ought  to  be  toddlin'  off.  Never  'ad 
such  a  time  since  I  don't  know  when.  But  you'll  be 
sure  an'  bring  Miss  Is  —  Miss  FitzPeter  round  an' 
'ave  a  bit  o'  something  to  eat  an'  a  look  round  the 
'ouse,  won't  you,  sir?  'Ow  about  to-morrow?  " 

Sir  Edward,  still  overflowing  with  loving  kindness 
towards  his  neighbor,  and  having  decided  that,  come 
what  might,  he  must  keep  the  bowls,  beamed  on  him. 

"  Don't  go,  Mr.  Wentworth,"  he  said. 

His  daughter  looked  up  sharply  and  shook  her 
head;  Mr.  Wentworth  was  all  very  well  in  his  way, 
but  she  wanted  him  on  her  hands  no  longer,  now 
that  Denis  had  returned.  But  her  father  did  not 
notice  her  little  pantomime  -and  blundered  genially 
on. 

"  Those  boys  have  monopoliz-ed  you  so  that  I've 
seen  nothing  of  you.  Stay  to  dinner,  won't  you,  and 
afterward  —  if  you'd  be  so  kind  —  I'll  get  your 
expert  opinion  on  a  small  article  I'm  writing  on 
Eastern  dress  and  architecture." 

In  his  joy  at  the  first  part  of  this  invitation,  Alf 
hardly  listened  to  the  second;  but  his  sense  of 
propriety  intervened  for  a  moment. 

"  But  I  didn't  ought  .  .  .  these  clothes  .  .  ." 
he  began. 

"  Oh,  never  mind.  You'll  do  splendidly  as  you 
are,  eh,  Iso?  " 

Thus  appealed  to,  Isobel  had  only  one  course  open 
to  her. 


228  ALPS  BUTTON 

"  Do  stay,  Mr.  Wentworth,"  she  said  perfunc- 
torily. 

"  Delighted,  I'm  sure,"  said  Alf  gallantly.  His 
heart  glowed.  Here  was  a  wonderful  opportunity. 
If  only  he  could  get  rid  of  Allen,  and  make  some  real 
impression  on  Isobel  .  .  .  how  could  he  get  rid  of 
Allen  .  .  .? 

This  question  occupied  him  as  he  went  with  them, 
to  explore  a  tangled  wilderness  in  a  part  of  the  gar- 
den he  had  not  yet  seen.  If  only  he  could  tip  the 
wink  to  Isobel,  it  ought  to  be  easy  for  them  to  slip 
away  from  the  intrusive  Allen  .  .  .  could  he? 

He  suddenly  found,  with  some  perturbation,  that 
h'e  was -alone.  He  had  been  busy  with  his  thoughts 
and  had  not  noticed  which  way  the  others  h'ad  gone. 
He  hunted  for  a  time  —  and  fell  into  the  arms  of 
a  group  of  exuberant  youths  who  insisted  on  bearing 
him  off  to  learn  clock-golf. 

Meanwhile,  Denis  and  Isobel,  panting  from  their 
sudden  and  inexcusable  dash  through  the  tangled 
undergrowth,  had  reached  a  sequestered  retreat 
known  as  the  Dutch  garden.  Allen  drew  from  his 
pocket  a  small  parcel. 

"  I  thought  we'd  never  get  rid  of  the  fellow,"  he 
said.  "  I've  got  it,  darling  —  a  little  beauty.  Let's 
see  if  it  fits." 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  CAPTURE  OF  MASTER  BOBBY 

AS  dinner-time  approached,  Alf  found  himself 
left  alone  while  his  companions  slipped  up- 
stairs to  change  their  flannels  for  uniform.  He 
felt  rather  lonely  and  out  of  place.  He  wandered 
into  the  great  hall  and  sat  down  in  a  large  leather- 
covered  armchair.  But  Barnby  the  butler  was  fuss- 
ing about  here,  and  his  disapproving  and  contemptu- 
ous eye  fixed  on  Alf's  clothes  was  more  than  the 
sensitive  Mr.  Wentworth  could  bear.  He  therefore 
looked  about  for  a  more  secluded  spot,  which  he 
found  in  a  little  alcove  behind  some  palms.  Here 
he  could  see  without  being  seen,  so  that  he  could 
give  .himself  up  undisturbed  to  his  reflections.  He 
hoped  that  Isobel  would  be  the  first  to  appear  — 
then  he  could  seize  the  opportunity  and  see  her,  for 
the  first  time,  alone. 

But  the  first  person  to  appear  was  Denis  Allen. 
He  came  downstairs  quickly  and  looked  about  with 
an  eager  air.  His  face  clouded  with  disappoint- 
ment, and  he  picked  up  an  evening  paper  and  sat 
down  in  an  armchair.  He  had  hardly  settled,  how- 
ever, when  a  Vision  appeared  at  the  top  of  the  stair. 
He  threw  down  his  paper  and  sprang  up. 

Alf,  in  his  alcove,  stared  with  all  his  eyes.  He 
had  never  seen  Isobel  in  evening  dress  before,  and 

229 


230  ALPS  BUTTON 

she  quite  literally  took  his  breath  away.  She  had 
put  on  her  favorite  frock  for  Denis'  benefit,  and  was 
looking  radiant. 

"  Lumme !  "  said  Alf  softly  to  himself. 

A  new  feeling  began  to  stir  inside  him.  Up  till 
now  he  had  accepted  his  quest  of  Isobel  as  one  of 
the  strange  things  which  his  mad,  uncomfortable  new 
life  had  brought  to  him.  He  had  wanted  her 
because  both  Bill  and  Eustace  had  made  him  feel 
that  his  duty  to  his  new  position  demanded  it.  Now, 
to  his  own  surprise,  he  found  himself  wanting  her 
for  himself.  Social  differences  had  suddenly  ceased 
to  count.  The  triumphant  self-confidence  of  the 
afternoon  was  still  with  him.  He  was,  for  the 
time,  drunk  with  the  heady  wine  of  success,  and  all 
things  seemed  possible  to  him. 

She  paused  only  for  an  instant  at  the  stairhead, 
then  she  came  down  into  the  hall.  Alf  gazed  and 
gazed,  drinking  in  the  grace  of  her  movements  with 
eyes  that  seemed  only  now  for  the  first  time  -to  have 
learnt  to  see. 

Alf  stood  up,  trembling,  and  was  on  the  point  of 
leaving  his  retreat;  but  as  Isobel  reached  the  hall 
Allen  took  a  couple  of  steps  forward  and  after  a 
quick  glance  round  to  make  sure  that  they  were 
unobserved,  he  caught  Isobel  in  his  arms  and  began 
to  kiss  her  passionately.  Alf  had  some  hazy  idea 
of  rescuing  beauty  in  distress ;  but  he  caught  sight  of 
Isobel's  transfigured  face  and  hastily  fell  back  again 
Into  his  alcove.  Beauty  had  no  desire  to  be  rescued. 
Alf,  with  his  house  of  cards  in  fragments  about  him, 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  MASTER  BOBBY     231 

saw  Isobel  slip  free  of  Allen's  enthusiastic  embrace. 

"  You  mustn't,  darling,"  she  said  softly  —  yet  not 
so  softly  that  Alf  could  not  hear.  "  Somebody  will 
be  coming.  Lfet's  go  into  the  garden." 

She  picked  up  a  wrap  from  a  chair  and  led  the 
way  out.  They  passed  wrthin  a  yard  or  two  of 
Alf  s  hiding-place,  and  he  noticed  the  gleam  of  the 
engagement  ring  on  her  finger.  What  a  fool  he 
had  been! 

If  the  blow  had  fallen  on  the  previous  day,  Alf 
would  have  borne  it  with  stoicism,  perhaps  with  a 
certain  relief.  He  would  have  debited  the  Button 
with  one  more  dismal  if  not  unexpected  failure,  and 
there  the  matter  would  have  ended.  But  that  he 
should  have  his  hopes  dashed  to  the  ground  to-night, 
just  when  the  prize  seemed  most  worth  winning  and 
almost  in  his  grasp,  was  a  cruel  blow. 

He  sat  for  some  minutes  completely  dazed  and 
helpless,  but  at  last  he  was  r-ecalled  to  earth  by  the 
sound  of  his  own  name.  Two  of  his  new  friends  of 
the  afternoon  had  met  in  the  hall. 

"Where's  Wentworth?"  asked  the  first.  "  He 
isn't  anywhere  about,  is  he?  I  say,  have  you  seen 
Philips?  He  was  in  the  village  this  afternoon  and 
he  says  that  some  sportsman  or  other  has  got  the 
wind  up  and  reported  that  Wentworth  &  Co.  are 
German  spies.  Scotland  Yard  is  sending  some  men 
down.  Isn't  it  priceless?  " 

The  other  man  laughed. 

"  Good  Lord !  Wentworth,  of  all  people !  I 
say,  hadn't  we  better  find  the  little  man  and  tell 


232  ALPS  BUTTON 

him?  He's  somewhere  about,  I  expect.  Let's  try 
the  smoking-room." 

They  went  off. 

Alf  sat  petrified  with  horror.  Scotland  Yard ! 
The  very  name  sent  cold  shivers  up  and  down  his 
innocent  spine.  He  must  get  away  quickly  and  tell 
Bill.  But  what  excuse  could  he  give  for  his  uncere- 
monious departure? 

But  now  Fate,  having  dealt  poor  Alf  two  stun- 
ning blows,  relented  and  gave  him  the  excuse  he 
needed.  Sir  Edward  and  Barnby  came  into  the  hall, 
both  looking  very  agitated. 

"  Mr.  Wentworth  was  'ere  not  long  since,  sir," 
said  the  butler.  "  I'll  go  and  .  .  ." 

"  'Ere  I  am,  Sir  Edward,"  said  Alf,  coming  out  of 
his  retirement.  "  Did  you  want  me?  " 

"  Mr.  Wentworth,"  said  Sir  Edward  gravely; 
u  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  your  presence  is  urgently 
needed  at  the  Manor.  The  village  policeman  has 
called  to  report  that  there  has  been  trouble  between 
your  men  and  the  villagers.  Perhaps  you  know  that 
your  establishment  is  for  some  reason  regarded  with 
deep  suspicion  in  the  village?  Anyhow,  it  comes  to 
this:  that  the  two  men  who  came  here  with  you 
have  disappeared  into  the  Manor  taking  with  them 
a  youth  called  Myers  as  a  kind  of  hostage.  He  was 
throwing  stones  and  I  have  no  doubt  he  deserved 
all  he  got.  But  the  excitement  in  the  village  is 
intense,  because  your  men  —  doubtless  in  self-defense 
—  drew  their  scimitars  and  marched  Master  Bobby 
off  under  an  armed  guard.  The  village  is  convinced 
that  he's  cooked  and  eaten  by  now." 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  MASTER  BOBBY     233 

Alf  got  up;  he  was  deeply  grateful  to  Bobby 
Myers  for  giving  him  this  chance  of  getting  away. 

"  I'll  go  now,"  he  said. 

"I'm  so  sorry!" 

"  Don't  mention  it." 

Alf  found  his  topper  and  joined  P.C.  Jobling  out- 
side. The  two  men  set  oft  through  the  darkness  in 
silence  —  Alf  because  he  was  plunged  in  black  gloom. 
Jobling  because  he  was  too  terrified  to  speak. 

They  reached  the  Manor  gates  at  last  and  the 
entire  population  of  the  village  seemed  to  be 
gathered  at  the  spot  in  a  state  of  mind  bordering  on 
frenzy. 

A  raw-boned  female  fury,  brandishing  a  meat- 
chopper, recognizable  as  Mrs.  Myers,  mother  of  the 
languishing  captive,  caught  sight  of  Alf  first. 

"  'Ere  'e  is!  "  she  shrieked.  "  'Ere's  the  villain 
as  'as  murdered  my  Bobby." 

"  G-arh !  "  snarled  the  crowd. 

"  Spy!  "  said  somebody. 

"  Kidnaper!  "  growled  somebody  else. 

u'Ound!"  quavered  a  trembling  old  voice 
belonging  to  a  rheumatic  and  usually  bedridden 
octogenarian  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd. 

Alf  paused  irresolutely.  He  did  not  need  to  be 
told  that  he  was  in  quite  an  ugly  corner.  Mrs. 
Myers  came  forward,  brandishing  the  meat-ax. 
Alf  gave  back  in  alarm. 

"  Where's  my  Bobby?  "  she  demanded. 

"  I  dunno,  mum,"  said  Alf  ingratiatingly.  "  But 
if  you'll  just  let  me  pass  I'll  go  an'  get  'im  for 
you." 


234  ALF'S  BUTTON 

"  Ho,  yes !  A  nice  game !  No,  my  man,  you'll 
stay  'ere  till  I  get  my  Bobby  back,  or  I'll  know  the 
reason  why." 

P.C.  Arthur  Jobling  came  forward  in  his  most 
official  manner. 

"  Move  along  there,  please,"  he  said.  "  Make 
way  there;  let  the  gentleman  pass." 

There  was  a  scornful  laugh. 

"  You  just  get  out  o'  the  light,  Artie  Jobling," 
said  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Rudd.  "  We  don't  want  to 
'urt  you,  on'y  this  murderin'  villain  'ere." 

Alf  felt  a  crawling  sensation  in  his  spine.  He 
was  far  more  frightened  than  he  had  ever  been  in 
the  trenches.  His  knees  shook  and  his  teeth  showed 
signs  of  chattering.  On  every  side  of  him  were 
menacing  eyes  and  the  crowd  seemed  to  be  all  round 
him.  Suddenly  the  whole  group,  as  if  impelled  by  a 
common  will,  took  one  step  towards  him.  Alf  lost 
the  last  small  remnants  of  his  nerve.  He  put  down 
his  head;  selecting  a  part  of  the  crowd  as  remote 
as  possible  from  Mrs.  Myers  and  the  meat-ax,  he 
charged  blindly  with  whirling  fists.  There  was  a 
frantic  moment's  melee  while  the  crowd,  taken  by 
surprise,  rallied  round  the  affected  sector.  But  they 
were  too  late.  Alf  had  burst  through  them  and 
was  fleeing  up  the  drive.  His  cheek  was  bleeding 
from  a  scratch,  his  knuckles  were  torn  by  rude  impact 
with  somebody's  teeth  and  his  topper  had  finally  and 
irrevocably  disappeared.  With  shrieks  of  rage  the 
crowd  turned  and  pursued  him,  led  by  Mrs.  Myers. 
Only  the  octogenarian  remained.  He  found  an  out- 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  MASTER  BOBBY     235 

let  for  his  indignation  by  reducing  Alf's  hat  to 
tattered  fragments  with  his  stick.  P.C.  Jobling, 
having  decided  that  this  was  a  matter  altogether 
beyond  his  power,  was  pacing  majestically  towards 
the  village. 

At  the  corner  of  the  drive  the  pursuers  stopped, 
daunted.  Alf  rushed  on  with  labored  breath  and 
heaving  chest  to  the  shelter  of  the  house.  A  few 
stones  rattled  on  the  drive  far  short  of  him  —  he 
was  thankful  that  the  assembly  consisted  mainly  of 
women. 

He  dashed  into  the  hall.  The  first  thing  that  met 
his  eye  was  that  bone  of  contention,  Master  Bobby 
Myers,  under  the  guard  of  six  enormous  negroes  with 
drawn  scimitars.  Bobby  was  quite  undisturbed. 
His  chief  emotions  seemed  to  be  pride  at  the  amount 
of  attention  he  was  receiving  and  the  wonderful 
adventure  he  was  living  through,  and  a  complacent 
anticipation  of  the  important  position  he  would  hold 
as  soon  as  he  escaped  from  his  present  predicament 
and  returned  to  the  village. 

Alf  flung  himself  on  to  a  cushioned  divan  to  get 
back  his  breath.  He  was  conscious  of  the  presence 
of  Mustapha,  who  bowed  low  and  appeared  to  wish 
to  speak.  But  Alf  also  wished  to  speak. 

"  'Ere,  Farr,"  he  said  sharply,  "  what  the  'ell 
'ave  you  been  up  to  this  time,  eh?  Nice  sort  o' 
fool  you  make  of  yerself  as  soon  as  I  turn  me  back." 

"  Lord,"  returned  Mustapha,  "  verily  the  people 
of  the  land  did  attack  thy  servants  as  they  were 
returning  in  peace  from  the  palace  of  the  father  of 


236  ALPS  BUTTON 

thy  maiden,  setting  upon  them  with  missiles  and 
imprecations.  Then  did  thy  servants  seize  upon 
this  boy,  for  he  was  foremost  in  the  throwing  of  the 
missiles.  If  it  be  thy  will,  command  thy  servants 
that  he  be  forthwith  slain." 

"Slain?  D'you  mean  kill  'im?  Lumme!  No 
wonder  the  old  lady  was  a  bit  upset.  That's  what 
you  done  for  me,  Farr  —  get  me  chased  with  a 
chopper.  Let  the  boy  go  at  once." 

"  But,  Lord  .  .  ." 

"  Let  'im  go  at  once;  d'you  'ear  me?  " 

"  Lord,  I  hear  and  obey." 

Mustapha  spoke  a  few  words  to  the  negroes,  who 
sheathed  their  weapons  and  stood  away  from  the 
captive. 

Alf  jerked  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder. 

"  'Op  it!  "  he  said,  "  and  think  yerself  lucky  to 
get  off  so  easy." 

Bobby  rose  to  his  feet  as  majestically  as  his  size 
permitted  and  proceeded  to  the  door.  He  managed 
to  convey  the  impression  that  he  attributed  his 
release  entirely  to  his  own  intimidatory  demeanor; 
but  not  until  he  had  made  sure  that  his  retreat  was 
not  cut  off  did  he  speak.  At  the  door  he  stopped, 
placed  his  right  thumb  on  the  point  of  his  nose  and 
spread  out  his  fingers,  at  the  same  time  displaying  a 
large  expanse  of  insolent  tongue. 

"  Yah !  "  he  said  —  replacing  his  tongue  for  the 
purpose.  "  You  just  wait.  You  won't  'arf  get  it  in 
the  neck  for  this.  I'll  summons  yer,  see  if  I  don't. 
Food-'og!" 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  MASTER  BOBBY     237 

He  was  gone.  On  the  drive  his  parent  received 
him,  with  incredulous  joy,  as  one  returned  from  the 
tomb,  greeting  him  —  to  his  great  embarrassment 
—  with  an  unaccustomed  kiss.  Then,  having  cuffed 
him  on  the  head  to  restore  her  self-respect,  she  led 
him  down  to  the  village,  where  Master  Bobby  found 
himself  occupying  a  position  in  the  public  eye  cal- 
culated to  swell  his  head  beyond  all  hope  of  recovery. 

But  Bobby's  threats  and  Bobby's  taunts  were  alike 
immaterial  to  Alf.  His  mind  was  occupied  with 
greater  things.  He  went  upstairs  to  Bill  and  found 
that  sybarite  placidly  sleeping,  while  Lucy  sat  by  his 
head  rhythmically  waving  a  fan.  Mr.  Montmor- 
cncy's  mouth  was  open  and  his  snores  reverberated 
through  the  room.  Alf  eyed  him  with  disgust,  and 
then  woke  him  by  the  simple  but  efficacious  method 
of  kicking  him  in  the  ribs.  He  sat  up  and  expostu- 
lated. 

"What  the  'ell  ...  oh,  it's  you,  is  it?  .  .  . 
Well,  what  d'yer  mean  by  it?  An'  what's  wrong 
now?" 

Alf  glared  at  him  morosely. 

"  A  lot  you  care,"  he  returned.  "  'Ow  much  'elp 
'ave  you  given  me  over  this  job,  you  blinkin' 
soaker?  " 

"If  you  wants  a  clip  over  the  ear-'ole,"  began 
Bill,  with  heat,  "  you  on'y  got  to  go  on  askin'  for  it. 
As  for  'elp,  I'm  waitin'  till  I'm  needed.  What's  up 
now?  'Ave  they  slung  you  out  o'  the  'ouse,  or  what? 
/  can't  'elp  yer  table  manners,  you  know." 

"  She's  engaged." 


238  ALFS  BUTTON 

"'Oo  is?" 

"'Er  —  Miss  FitzPeter." 

"'Oo  to?" 

"  Mr.  Allen." 

Bill  pursed  up  his  lips  into  a  silent  whistle. 

"  Lumme,"  he  said,  "  I  never  thought  of  that." 

"  No.  You  just  lie  'ere  swigging  beer  an'  cuddlin' 
yer  blinkin'  Lucy.  I'm  fair  ashamed  to  see  yer. 
An'  now  the  'ole  thing's  over  an'  done  with,  an'  you 
'aven't  lifted  a  finger." 

"  There  'asn't  been  any  need  yet,"  said  Bill  coolly. 
"  This  is  where  I  come  in." 

"  But  it's  too  late  now." 

'  That's  all  you  know.  Why  don't  you  read  the 
book  properly?  Aladdin,  'e  got  into  a  much  worse 
mess  than  what  you  'ave,  because  'is  girl  got  married 
to  the  wrong  man,  instead  o'  just  engaged." 

"  What  did  'e  do  then?" 

"  'E  told  Eustace  to  make  it  'ot  for  the  other  man; 
an'  Eustace  made  it  so  'ot  that  the  other  man  went 
an'  got  divorced  from  the  girl,  an'  Aladdin  married 
'er.  It's  easier  for  you,  much.  Just  tell  Eustace  to 
fly  off  with  Lootentant  Allen,  an'  there  you  are, 
all  plain  sailin'  again.  'Ow  did  you  get  on  with  the 
old  bird?" 

"  Splendid.  'E  was  all  over  me,"  said  Alf  list- 
lessly. 

"  There  y'are,  then.  What  did  I  tell  yer?  Splash 
a  bit  more  money  about  an'  'e's  yours,  an'  so's  the 
girl.  Come  to  yer  Uncle  Bill  when  yer  in  trouble, 
me  lad,  an'  'e'll  see  you  through." 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  MASTER  BOBBY     239 

"  But  what  about  the  girl?  'Ow  if  she  loves  'im? 
'Sides,  'e's  a  nob." 

"  Let  'er,"  said  Bill  cynically.  "  She'll  soon  for- 
get 'im  when  you  begins  'andin'  out  the  oof.  Women 
is  all  alike.  I  don't  believe  in  'em  meself.  Lucy's 
the  sort  for  me.  I'm  thinkin'  of  marryin'  Lucy,  I 
am.  She's  just  what  I  want  in  a  wife  —  she  can't 
answer  me  back,  an'  the  more  beer  I  drinks  the 
better  she  seems  to  like  it.  'Ere,  what  are  you 
doin'?" 

Alf  was   unbuttoning   his   waistcoat    and   shirt. 
"  Gettin'  at  the  Button,"  he  said.     "  Coin'  to  call 
up  Eustace." 

"  Good  lad,"  said  Bill.  "  'Arf  a  tick,  though  — 
you  know  'ow  the  Button  upsets  Lucy.  'Ere,  Lucy 
—  skedaddle  ; —  bunk !  " 

Lucy  obediently  bunked. 

"  Now,"  said  Bill.  "  Let's  call  the  ole  blighter 
up  and  settle  the  'ash  of  the  feller  as  'as  engaged 
'imself  to  yer  girl,  nob  or  no  nob." 

Alf  rubbed  the  talisman. 

"  What  wouldst  thou  have?  "  said  the  deep  tones 
of  Eustace. 

Alf  took  a  deep  breath  and  began  to  speak  rapidly 
and  nervously. 

"  Eustace,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  say  that  I'm  sure 
you  always  done  yer  best  for  me,  an'  I'm  grateful 
for  it.  If  you  'ave  made  some  bloomers,  why,  we 
all  make  bloomers  sometimes.  An'  it's  me  as  'ave 
made  the  biggest  bloomer  o'  the  lot." 

41  'Ere    endeth    the    second    lesson,"    said    Bill 


240  ALPS  BUTTON 

derisively.     "  Get    on    to    business,    you    chump." 

"  But,"  resumed  Alf  doggedly,  "  I  been  a  fool 
and  I  ain't  goin'  on  with  it.  What  I  want  you  to  do 
is  to  take  away  everything  in  this  'ouse  as  you've 
put  in  it,  an'  to  put  back  everything  as  you  found 
'ere,  just  as  it  was  when  you  took  it  over." 

"  I  say  .  .  ."  began  Bill  loudly. 

"  Master,"  said  Eustace  gravely,  "  I  hear  and 
obey." 

He  vanished. 

Instantly  the  lights  in  the  room  went  out.  At  the 
same  moment  the  hum  of  life  which  had  filled  the 
building  stopped  dead,  and  an  eerie  stillness  fell  on 
the  house.  The  curtains  which  had  veiled  the 
windows  were  suddenly  no  longer  there,  and  the 
moon  shining  in  filled  the  room  with  a  half-light  in 
which  Alf  could  see  Bill's  figure  silhouetted. 

The  dead  silence  was  broken  by  a  flood  of 
picturesque  and  disreputable  imprecations  from  Bill. 

"  What  d'you  think  yer  doin'  ?  "  he  asked,  when 
he  could  articulate  once  more.  "What's  the  idea? 
Think  you're  funny,  I  s'pose.  'Ere,  some  one's 
pinched  me  clothes.  .  .  ." 

He  groped  his  way  to  the  door  and  opened  it. 
Alf,  suddenly  conscious  that  he,  too,  was  wearing 
nothing  but  the  string  to  which  the  Button  was  sus- 
pended, and  beginning  to  fear  that  Eustace  had  been 
once  more  disconcertingly  "  'olesale,"  followed  Bill 
outside.  The  moonbeams,  shining  through  the  glass 
of  the  roof  into  the  great  hall,  faintly  lighted  up  an 
utterly  changed  house.  At  one  end  of  the  hall  they 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  MASTER  BOBBY     241 

revealed  the  great  tapestry  whose  disappearance  had 
caused  the  vicar  such  acute  pain.  But  there  was 
no  sign  of  life  —  the  place  seemed  suddenly  haunted 
and  ghostly.  The  two  men  retreated  hastily  into 
the  room  they  had  just  left  and  tripped  over  two 
piles  of  khaki  clothing,  which  lay  on  the  floor,  neatly 
folded;  by  them  lay  two  sets  of  kit  and  two  rifles. 
Otherwise  the  room  was  utterly  empty. 

Alf,  without  a  word,  began  to  dress  himself.  Bill 
felt  in  his  tunic  pocket  and  produced  a  match.  By 
its  light  he  surveyed  the  strange  room,  trying  to  take 
in  the  meaning  of  this  last  act  of  Alf's. 

"  But  look  'ere,"  he  said  stupidly  at  last;  "  Lucy's 
gone." 

"  Yes  —  an'  a  good  riddance  too.  It's  you  an* 
your  blinkin'  Lucy  what's  done  me  in.  Get  yer 
clothes  on  now  an'  we'll  go,  too." 

"Go?     Us?" 

Events  were  moving  too  quickly  for  Bill's  obfus- 
cated intellect. 

"  O'  course.  We  still  got  a  fortnight  o'  our  leave 
left,  thank  'Evings.  I'm  goin'  'ome." 

"  But  .  .  ." 

"  Shut  it,  Bill  Grant.  We  got  to  go,  I  tell  yer. 
Why  they'd  'ave  'arf  killed  me  in  the  village  just 
now  if  they'd  'a  caught  me.  I've  'ad  enough  of  it. 
Besides,  they're  puttin'  Scotland  Yard  on  to  us." 

"  But  it'll  be  all  right,  you  fat-'ed.    Eustace  .  .  ." 

"  Don't  you  talk  about  Eustace  to  me." 

Alf,  dressing  in  feverish  haste,  tied  his  puttee- 
tapes  and  put  on  his  tunic. 


242  ALPS  BUTTON 

"  I  ain't  goin'  to  'ave  nothing  more  to  do  with 
Eustace,  nor  no  one  else  is  neither.  It  ain't  right. 
If  you  'ave  dealin's  with  the  Devil  you're  sure  to  get 
it  in  the  neck  some'ow." 

Bill,  who  had  encountered  before  the  streak  of 
pig-headed  obstinacy  which  underlay  Alf 's  easy-going 
nature,  realized  that  no  useful  purpose  could  be 
served  by  argument.  For  a  moment  the  prospect  of 
losing  the  life  of  ease  that  had  been  his  for  the  past 
week  tempted  him  to  try  to  force  Alf  by  physical 
violence  to  countermand  his  order.  Then  a  subtler 
plan  occurred  to  him.  Alf  had  proved  himself 
utterly  unworthy  to  possess  the  Button;  he,  Bill, 
would  wait  his  chance  to  get  it  from  him  by  fair 
means  or  foul  and  then  .  .  .  His  brain  reeled  at 
the  possibilities  that  opened  before  him.  First,  of 
course,  he  would  send  Eustace  over  to  Germany, 
kidnap  the  Kaiser  and  possibly  a  selection  of  his 
higher  command,  and  would  thus  bring  the  war  to  a 
speedy  and  triumphant  conclusion;  after  that,  he 
would  start  out  upon  a  career  of  dazzling  glory. 
Meanwhile  he  must  humor  Alf. 

"  Oh,  well,"  he  said,  in  a  resigned  tone.  "  P'raps 
you're  right.  What  you  goin'  to  do  now?  " 

"  First  thing  is  to  get  clear  o'  this  blinkin'  place," 
said  Alf.  "  If  we  get  nabbed  in  this  'ere  village,  I 
tell  yer  straight  we'll  be  damn  well  murdered." 

Bill  gave  an  uneasy  laugh.  '  They'll  never  know 
us  in  these  things,"  he  said. 

He  remembered  that  P.C.  Jobling  at  any  rate 
knew  him  by  sight,  and  he  felt  nervous.  "  Look 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  MASTER  BOBBY     243 

'ere,"  he  suggested,  "  why  not  use  the  Button  —  just 
once  more  —  to  get  us  'ome?" 

Alf's  jaw  set. 

"  Never  no  more,"  he  answered.  "  You've  seen 
the  last  of  Eustace,  you  'ave.M 

Bill  said  no  more,  but  inwardly  he  registered  a 
passionate  denial  of  Alf's  statement. 

Half  an  hour  later  two  khaki-clad  figures  climbed 
cautiously  over  a  remote  part  of  the  wall  which  sur- 
rounded the  Denmore  estate,  and  made  their  way 
with  some  apprehension  along  the  road  towards  the 
village.  When  they  passed  the  front  gates  of  the 
Manor,  they  were  relieved  to  find  them  no  longer 
an  object  of  excitement.  The  crowd  had  dispersed. 
But  in  the  village  street  *vere  gesticulating  groups 
discussing  not  only  the  events  of  the  day  but  also,  it 
seemed,  plans  of  campaign  for  the  morrow. 

"We'll  teach  'em  —  the  murderin'  villains." 

"  Seems  they  Miink  they're  in  Roosher,  but  we'll 
show  'em." 

It  was  plain  that  the  incident  of  Bobby  Myers 
was  not  by  any  means  considered  closed.  The  two 
figures  in  the  familiar  khaki  passed  through  the 
groups  almost  unnoticed;  one  man,  pausing  in  a  lurid 
description  of  what  he  could  do  to  the  villain,  Went- 
worth,  on  the  morrow,  nodded  a  friendly  good-night 
to  Alf,  but  otherwise  the  topic  of  the  night  was  too 
absorbing  to  leave  time  for  dallying  with  casual 
Tommies.  By  the  time  they  reached  the  railway- 
nation  even  Bill  felt  thankful  that  he  was  not  going 


244  ALPS  BUTTON 

to  be  at  home  to  visitors  at  the  Manor  on  the  mor- 
row. As  for  Alf,  everything  that  he  saw  and  heard 
crystallized  his  determination  never  on  any  account 
to  have  further  recourse  to  the  Button.  Isobel  was 
almost  forgotten  —  she  seemed  as  far  away  as  a 
person  seen  in  a  dream.  The  dream  had  been  vivid 
enough  while  it  lasted,  but  already  its  edges  were 
becoming  blurred  and  its  colors  were  fading. 

By  good  fortune  they  were  in  easy  time  to  catch 
the  last  train  to  London;  but  only  as  they  reached 
the  ticket-office  did  it  strike  either  warrior  that 
Eustace,  when  clearing  away  the  rest  of  his  gifts, 
had  taken  also  their  store  of  wealth. 

"  'Ave  you  any  oof,  Bill?  "  asked  Alf  anxiously. 

"  I  dunno." 

They  sought  in  their  pockets,  each  with  a  vision  of 
a  twenty-mile  tramp  to  London  before  his  eyes. 
Then  they  sighed  with  relief;  each  had  still  the 
money  with  which  he  had  started  out  upon  his  leave. 
Alf  pushed  a  note  across  the  counter. 

"  This  is  no  good  to  me,"  said  the  female  and 
youthful  booking-clerk,  in  superior  tones,  hastily 
retrieving  the  tickets  she  was  just  handing  out. 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"  French  money,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Lumme,  so  it  is !  I  never  thought  o'  that,  Bill. 
'Ave  you  any  English  ?  " 

Bill  looked  hastily  through  his  store  and  shook  his 
head. 

"  Look  'ere,  miss,"  he  said  ingratiatingly. 
"  Can't  you  let  us  'ave  the  tickets,  as  a  special  case 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  MASTER  BOBBY     245 

like  ?  We're  on  leave  from  the  front,  an*  we  'aven't 
'ad  no  time  to  get  our  money  changed  yet.  If  you 
don't  let  us  'ave  the  tickets  we'll  'ave  to  walk.  An* 
it  is  good  money,  even  if  it  is  French." 

The  damsel  was  softened  but  doubtful. 

"  I'll  ask  father,"  she  said. 

"  Father "  turned  out  to  be  the  station-master. 
He  listened  to  their  story  with  manifest  incredulity, 
and  fingered  the  French  notes  with  skepticism,  but 
finally  agreed  to  accept  them  in  payment  of  the  fare. 
But  he  fixed  a  rate  of  exchange  which  assured  that 
the  railway  company  —  or  possibly  himself  — 
would  gain  by  the  transaction  an  enormous  and 
unearned  increment. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  pay  up,  and  any 
personal  continents  they  might  'have  wished  to  make 
were  cut  short  by  the  arrival  of  the  train.  They 
found  an  empty  compartment  and  composed  them- 
selves joyfully  though  illegally  with  their  boots  on 
the  seats. 

Bill  brooded  darkly  for  a  time  on  the  affair  of  the 
station-master,  till  the  bitterness  of  his  thoughts 
forced  utterance. 

"  If  Eustace  .  .  ."  he  began. 

But  Alf,  worn  out  by  his  varied  emotions,  was 
already  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

MRS.  GRANT'S  DIPLOMACY 

A  WEEK  later  Private  Bill  Grant  —  late  Mr. 
William  Montmorency  of  Denmore  Manor 
—  was  approaching  the  parental  roof  of  his  friend, 
Alf  Higgins  —  ex  Wentworth.  Bill  neither  looked 
nor  felt  happy.  Life  during  the  period  since  the 
evacuation  of  Denmore  had  been  profitless  and  stale. 
True,  he  had  plenty  of  money  in  his  pocket  for  a  man 
in  his  position;  but  his  trouble  was  that  his  position 
no  longer  satisfied  him.  His  home,  after  the  glar- 
ing magnificence  of  Denmore,  seemed  cramped  and 
tawdry.  The  public-houses  of  Hackney,  once 
palaces  of  delight  to  be  dreamed  about  from  exile  in 
a  foreign  land,  were  squalid  and  stuffy.  The  liquid 
they  purveyed  was  —  by  contrast  with  the  full-bodied 
brew  supplied  by  Eustace  —  tasteless  and  flat.  The 
barmaids  compared  most  unfavorably  with  his  lost 
Lucy  in  beauty,  in  their  manner  of  dressing  and  in 
their  attitude  towards  himself.  Lucy,  for  instance, 
had  never  advised  him  to  boil  his  head. 

Bill  was,  in  fact,  thoroughly  miserable ;  and  he  saw 
no  prospect  whatever  of  any  alleviation  of  his  trouble 
until  his  leave  was  over.  He  did  not  see  the  faintest 
possibility  of  obtaining  the  Button  from  Alf,  until 
they  were  back  in  France  —  and  he  was  living  in 
anticipation  of  that  glorious  moment. 

He  had  no  very  clear  idea  why  he  was  going  to  sec 
246 


MRS.  GRANT'S  DIPLOMACY        247 

Alf  now.  Just  at  present,  he  and  his  mate  were  in 
that  state  of  acute  mutual  irritation  known  as  "  being 
on  one  another's  nerves."  Alf  was  still  obstinately 
determined  never  again  to  make  use  of  the  Button, 
and  disliked  any  reference  to  the  subject;  and  Bill, 
impelled  by  some  malignant  demon,  seemed  unable 
to  keep  veiled  allusions  to  it  out  of  his  conversation. 

To  Alf  their  return  to  Hackney  brought  nothing 
but  relief.  His  brief  spurt  of  passion  for  Isobel  had 
been  swallowed  up  in  his  joy  at  finding  himself  once 
more  free  to  live  his  own  life,  no  longer  the  helpless 
puppet  of  Fate  in  a  station  and  a  way  of  existence  to 
which  he  had  felt  himself  a  shrinking  stranger. 
Isobel  herself  was  now  more  than  ever  the  figure  of 
a  dream.  In  fact,  all  the  events  of  that  strange 
time  seemed  to  him  hazy  and  unreal,  until  their 
reality  was  brought  home  to  him  in  an  unexpected 
and  startling  manner. 

Alf  had  imagined  that  the  Denmore  Manor 
chapter  of  his  life  was  definitely  and  forever  closed 
when  he  reached  Waterloo  on  the  night  of  his  flight. 
He  had  at  once  started  to  grow  his  mustache  again, 
and  already  a  bristly  growth  was  doing  its  best  to 
eliminate  the  last  traces  of  Alfred  Wentworth, 
Esquire.  But  Alfred  Wentworth  had  been  too 
important  a  personage  in  his  short  career  for  the 
world  to  accept  so  lightly  his  disappearance.  The 
papers  had  taken  up  the  affair,  and  the  fuss  they 
made  of  it  both  surprised  and  alarmed  Alf.  To 
make  matters  worse,  Mr.  Higgins  senior  — who 
might  be  described  politically  as  being  a  half-baked 


248  ALF'S  BUTTON 

semi-socialist  —  had  regarded  the  whole  affair  as 
being  in  some  obscure  way  a  device  of  Capital  to 
defraud  Labor,  and  had  talked  of  nothing  else  for 
some  days,  until  Alf's  irritation  came  to  a  head  in 
regrettable  outbursts  of  temper. 

Bill  entered  the  house  on  this  occasion  to  find  Alf's 
father  reading  aloud  from  an  evening  paper  and 
making  fierce  marginal  comments  thereoa  for  the 
benefit  of  his  wife  and  son.  The  former  —  a  stout 
lady  of  placid  appearance  —  was  lulling  herself 
peacefully  to  sleep  in  a  rocking-chair,  soothed  by  her 
husband's  voice  as  much  as  by  the  motion.  Alf  was 
•sitting  hunched  up  in  a  rickety  basket-chair,  sucking 
at  an  empty  pipe. 

"  'Ullo !  "  said  Alf,  not  very  graciously. 

11  'Ullo !  "  returned  Bill,  as  sourly  as  he. 

Mr.  Higgins  senior,  however,  was  pleased  at  the 
prospect  of  obtaining  an  addition  to  his  audience  and 
welcomed  his  visitor  more  effusively. 

"  'Ullo,  Grant,"  he  said.  "  Come  and  sit  down. 
Wodjer  think  o'  this?  "  He  smote  the  paper  in  his 
hand.  "  The  country's  goin'  to  ruin  under  this  'ere 
gover"'mint.  Fair  makes  yer  blood  boil." 

"What  does?"  asked  Bill  politely  but  without 
interest.  Old  Higgins'  blood  had  a  habit  of  boiling 
on  the  smallest  provocation. 

"  The  'ole  bloomin'  business.  'Ere  you  an  Alf 
'ere  come  back  on  leave  to  this  country,  an'  what  do 
you  find?  " 

He  paused  dramatically.-  His  audience  gazed  at 
the  fireplace  with  complete  apathy  —  except  Mrs. 


MRS.  GRANT'S  DIPLOMACY        249 

Higgins,  who  emitted  a  slight  snore  and  dropped  her 
head  upon  her  ample  bosom. 

"What  do  you  find,  I  say?"  reiterated  her  hus- 
band. 

"Well,  what?"  Alf  asked  when  the  pause  had 
grown  too  painful  to  be  borne  any  longer. 

"What?  Why,  'caps  of  things,"  returned  his 
sire  rather  feebly.  "  It's  all  wrong.  The  country's 
full  o'  spies,  for  one  thing.  Full  of  'em.  'Ow  do 
we  know  'oo's  a  spy  an'  'oo  isn't?  —  tell  me  that. 
Look  'ere,  at  this  'ere  Denmore  Manor  business. 
We've  'ad  the  papers  full  o'  that  for  a  week  past, 
an'  not  a  single  arrest  made.  It's  my  belief  that 
Capital  won't  let  'em  make  any  arrests,  that's  what  I 
think.  Disgustin',  I  call  it!  " 

"  'Ow  d'you  know  there  was  spies  at  Denmore 
Manor?"  asked  Alf,  in  whom  the  innocent  accusa- 
tion rankled  deeply. 

"  Didn't  it  say  there  was  niggers?  An'  didn't  the 
paper  'ave  a  picture  o'  the  little  boy  as  they  kid- 
naped—  'e  said  they  was  spies,  an'  }e  ought  to 
know,  'e  ought.  An'  yet  them  blighters  is  allowed 
to  escape,  an'  they  must  be  all  over  the  country  now, 
an'  yet  nothing's  done." 

"  What's  the  paper  say?  "  asked  Bill  calmly. 

Mr.  Higgins,  much  pleased,  puffed  out  his  chest 
and  read. 

"  '  The  mystery  of  the  whereabouts  of  the  late 
occupants  of  Denmore  Manor  continues  to  arouse 
a  great  deal  of  public  interest.  No  light  has  yet 
been  thrown  either  on  the  reason  for  its  occupation 


250  ALPS  BUTTON 

or  upon  the  method  whereby  these  mysterious  people 
have  made  good  their  escape.  The  police  have  now 
a  strong  clew  as  to  the  identity  of  the  ringleaders, 
and  they  are  following  this  up.'  And  I  'ope  to 
'Eaven,"  concluded  the  reader  piously,  "  as  'ow  it'll 
come  to  something.  But  I'll  bet  it's  a  blinkin'  wash- 
out. The  police  is  no  good." 

Alf  and  Bill  stared  blankly  at  one  another. 

"  A  strong  clew  .  .  .  they  are  following  it 
up."  The  words  sounded  ominous.  And  yet  — 
what  could  the  clew  be?  Mr.  Higgins,  continuing 
his  scathing  denunciation  of  the  police,  found  that  he 
had  lost  the  attention  of  his  audience.  Alf  was  rais- 
ing enquiring  eyebrows  in  Bill's  direction,  while  Bill 
was  shaking  his  head.  He  had  no  idea  what  the 
"clew"  —  if  such  existed  —  might  be.  The  elder 
Higgins  regarded  this  pantomime  with  growing 
indignation  for  a  moment. 

"  It  don't  seem  to  matter  to  you  much  what 
'appens,"  he  said  coldly  at  last.  "  If  /  was  out  at 
the  front,  an'  came  back  an'  found  the  country  in 
this  kind  o'  state,  I'd  ...  I'd  .  .  ."  His  vocabu- 
lary suddenly  proved  unequal  to  the  strain  placed 
upon  it,  and  he  tailed  off  into  silence. 

"  /  don't  believe  they  was  spies  at  all,"  said  Alf 
doggedly. 

"  Not  spies?  "  His  father's  voice  quivered  with 
righteous  indignation.  "  Well,  what  about  this  'ere 
parson,  then?  —  tell  me  that." 

Alf,  who  had  forgotten  Mr.  Davies'  very  exist- 
ence, remembered  suddenly  that  in  the  hurry  of 


MRS.  GRANT'S  DIPLOMACY        251 

departure  he  had  left  that  unfortunate  clergyman 
and  his  wife  still  laboring  under  the  disability  so 
ruthlessly  imposed  upon  them.  His  conscience 
smote  him. 

"  Why,"  he  asked  uneasily,  "  what's  wrong  with 
'im?  'As  'e  being  gettin'  into  trouble?" 

"  No,  but  'e  blinkin'  well  ought  to !  " 

"  What's  'e  done?" 

"  It's  what  'e  'asn't  done  as  11  the  matter.  'E 
knows  something  about  this  'ere  business.  'E  went 
up  to  the  'ouse.  But  'e  won't  say  a  word.  Won't 
tell  the  police  nothing.  Nobody  can't  get  'im  to 
speak." 

"  But  'e  ain't  in  no  trouble,  is  'e?  "  persisted  Alf. 

"Trouble?  No.  They  can't  touch  'im.  If  it 
was  you  or  me,  now,  it  'ud  be  a  case  o'  the  police." 

Alf,  much  relieved,  stifled  his  conscience.  The 
orator  continued  his  fierce  harangue. 

"  Yer  mean  to  tell  me,"  he  demanded,  "  as  'e 
couldn't  say  something  if  'e  wanted  to?  'E's  in 
league  with 'em,  that's  what 'e  is.  Not  spies?  Not 
spies?  Why,  you're  as  bad  as  this  'ere  Sassiety  lady 
—  FitzPeter  they  call  'er." 

"What's  she  done?"  asked  Alf  sharply. 

"  Done?  Why,  she  goes  about  saying  in  the 
paper  as  she  don't  believe  they  was  spies.  All  cam- 
myflage,  that  is.  What  are  they,  if  not  spies?  — 
tell  me  that.  I  believe  she's  mixed  up  in  it  'erself, 
too.  Why,  this  'ere  feller  Wentworth,  'e  went  to 
'er  'ouse  to  dinner  the  very  same  night  'e  'ad  to 
clear  out.  That  makes  you  think  a  bit,  eh?  An'  I 


252  ALFS  BUTTON 

'ear  she  went  an'  'ad  a  talk  with  'im  in  'is  own'  'ouse 
too.  It's  all  Capital  an'  'Idden  'And  together. 
These  'ere  Sassiety  ladies  is  no  good.  Wrong  'uns, 
my  boy,  that's  what  they  are.  If  I  'ad  me  way 
I'd  .  .  ." 

"  If  I  'ad  my  way,"  said  Alf  with  heat,  "  I'd  'ave 
people  like  you  muzzled,  I  would." 

"  You  .   .  .  you  .   .   . !  " 

"  'Ow  dare  you  miscall  a  lady  like  Miss  Fitz- 
Peter?" 

"  Steady,  Alf  —  'old  on,"  said  Bill,  in  an  agony 
lest  passion  should  lead  his  friend  to  indiscretion. 

"  I  tell  yer,"  resumed  Alf,  still  at  the  top  of  his 
voice,  waking  his  mother  from  her  comfortable  nap, 
"  I  tell  yer  that  Miss  FitzPeter  never  'ad  nothing  to 
do  with  no  spies,  never  in  'er  'ole  life  she  didn't,  an' 
any  one  'oo  says  so  is  a  liar." 

"  Ho !  I'm  a  liar,  am  I?  "  Mr.  Higgins  leapt  to 
his  feet.  His  wife,  according  to  her  invariable  cus- 
tom when  her  menfolk  quarreled,  began  to  weep 
quietly,  but  persistently.  "  Get  out  o'  the  'ouse ! 
I  ain't  goin'  to  be  called  names  by  no  young  'ound 
like  you.  Get  out  of  it!  An'  what  d'you  know 
about  'er,  anyway?  " 

"What  do  I  know?"  Alf  laughed  with  scorn. 
"  I  know  a  dam'  sight  more'n  .  .  ." 

"  Come  on,  Alf!  "  urged  Bill  earnestly  in  his  ear, 
anxious  only  to  get  him  away  before  he  made  some 
terrible  revelation.  Alf  allowed  himself  to  be  led 
into  the  street,  where  Bill  gave  him  a  "  dressing 
down." 


MRS.  GRANT'S  DIPLOMACY        253 

"  You  blinkin'  fool,"  he  said.  "  What  the  'ell 
d'you  want  to  go  an'  do  that  for?  You'll  give  the 
'ole  blinkin'  show  away  if  you  ain't  careful.  Nice 
we  should  look  if  any  one*  found  out  it  was  us  at 
the  Manor!  " 

"  Well,"  returned  Alf,  still  fermenting,  "  what's 
'e  want  to  go  talking  like  that  for?  Spies,  indeed! 
What's-  'e  know  about  it?  " 

"  That  ain't  the  question,"  replied  Bill  seriously. 
"  What  /  want  to  know  is,  what's  the  police  know 
about  it.  You  'card  what  the  paper  said  about  a 
clew." 

"  Don't  they  always  say  that?  " 

"  Yes,  but  not  so  confident  as  that.  If  they  don't 
know  nothing  about  it,  they  say:  '  The  police  'as  a 
clew,'  an'  everybody  knows  they  'aven't  got  nothing 
o'  the  sort.  But  this  says :  '  A  strong  clew,  what 
the  police  is  followin'  up.'  Did  we  leave  anything 
be'indus?" 

Rack  their  brains  as  they  would,  they  could  not 
remember  anything  they  had  left  as  a  clew.  The 
question  worried  them  considerably.  Bill  made 
once  more  his  suggestion  that  Eustace  could  be  em- 
ployed to  set  things  right,  but  dropped  the  idea 
hastily  in  face  of  Alf's  reception  thereof. 

"  I  expect,"  he  said  at  last,  hopefully,  but  without 
real  conviction,  "  as  it's  all  cammyflage,  arter  all. 
There  ain't  no  clew,  an'  they  just  pitched  the  tale 
extra  strong  so's  people  won't  make  remarks." 

Each  man  kept  an  anxious  eye  on  the  papers  for 
the  next  few  days,  but  nothing  more  was  published 


254  ALF'S  BUTTON 

concerning  the  clew ;  and  when  the  time  went  on,  and 
the  day  before  they  were  due  to  return  to  the  front 
arrived  without  any  more  light  being  thrown  on  the 
Manor  mystery,  they  began  to  feel  more  easy. 

But  that  day,  as  Bill  and  his  mother  (a  lady  as 
aggressive  as  Mrs.  Higgins  was  the  reverse)  were 
finishing  their  dinner  there  came  a  heavy  knocking 
on  the  door. 

Mrs.  Grant  peeped  out  of  the  window  to  see  who 
her  unexpected  visitors  might  be. 

"  Two  policemen !  "  she  exclaimed  in  angry  alarm. 
"  Is  this  some  o'  your  doin's,  Bill  Grant?  What  you 
been  up  to?  " 

"  Nothin',"  said  Bill  as  jauntily  as  he  could  for 
the  cold  chills  that  were  chasing  one  another  up  and 
down  his  backbone.  "  Nothin'  at  all." 

"  I  'ope  not,"  answered  his  mother  grimly.  She 
had  seen  his  expression  at  hearing  the  word  "  police- 
man," and  she  suspected  the  worst.  Whether  or  not 
the  police  succeeded  in  extracting  anything  from  him, 
she  was  confident  that  he  had  been  doing  something 
wrong.  She  determined  that  once  the  police  had 
been  safely  got  away,  Bill  would  have  her  to  deal 
with. 

"  If  you've  been  doin'  anythin',"  she  went  on, 
"  it'll  be  worse  for  you.  I'm  a  respectable  woman, 
I  am.  Quick,  go  an'  answer  the  door  before  the 
neighbors  see  we  got  the  police  'ere." 

As  Bill  went  towards  the  door  the  knocking  was 
renewed  with  redoubled  violence.  Mrs.  Grant  could 
see  interested  faces  at  the  windows  of  the  houses 


MRS.  GRANT'S  DIPLOMACY        255' 

opposite,  and  her  temper  became  worse  than  ever. 
She  went  into  the  passage,  where  Bill  had  just  ad- 
mitted two  large  constables. 

"  Come  in  'ere,"  she  said. 

They  entered. 

Under  his-  armpit  the  larger  of  the  two  —  a 
sergeant  —  bore  a  book  which  Bill  at  once  recog- 
nized. It  was  the  old  lady's  copy  of  the  Arabian 
Nights  —  and  the  "  strong  clew  "  of  the  newspapers. 
Bill  prepared  to  lie  as  he  had  never  lied  before. 

The  smaller  policeman  —  he  could  not  have 
weighed  more  than  fourteen  stone  —  produced  an 
indelible  pencil  and  an  official  notebook.  He  laid 
the  latter  on  the  table  atid  moistened  the  former 
preparatory  to  beginning  his  clerical  labors,  receiving 
thereby  a  purple  stain  on  the  lip. 

"  Private  William  Grant?  "  asked  the  sergeant. 

"  That's  me." 

"  5th  Middlesex  Fusiliers?  " 

"  That's  right,"  said  Bill.  He  was  relieved  at 
being  able  to  start  by  telling  the  truth.  It  laid  a 
firm  foundation  for  the  lies  he  would  have  to  con- 
struct later  on. 

"  Regimental  Number  2312?  " 

"  Correct,"  said  Bill.  "  What  might  you  want  o' 
me?" 

"  I  just  want  to  ask  you  a  question  or  two."  The 
scribe  at  the  table  gave  his  pencil  another  lick, 
increasing  the  stain  on  his  lip. 

"What  about?" 

The  spokesman  gave  a  doubtful  glance  at  Mrs. 


256  ALPS  BUTTON 

Grant,  who  was  still  quivering  in  the  background. 

"  If  the  lady  wouldn't  mind  .  .  ."  he  began 
politely. 

"  'Op  it,  mother!  "  said  Bill.  "  You  go  an'  get 
on  with  yer  washin'." 

"  Oh,  indeed!  I'm  not  to  know  what  goes  on  in 
me  own  'ouse,  ain't  I  ?  Very  well  then,  you  can  ask 
yer  questions  in  the  street,  or  the  back  yard." 

"  P'raps  it  don't  matter,"  said  the  sergeant 
uneasily.  "  I  only  want  to  ask  a  question  or  two 
about  this  book." 

"  Right-o,"  said  Bill.     "  Carry  on !  " 

Should  he  deny  all  knowledge  of  the  book?  If 
he  did,  could  he  outface  the  policemen  and  convince 
them?  How  much  did  the  police  know,  and  how 
had  they  managed  to  connect  him  with  the  book  at 
all?  He  could  not  answer  any  of  these  questions, 
and  his  only  course  was  to  wait  till  his  adversary 
should  give  him  a  lead.  He  did  not  have  to  wait 
long. 

"  This  book,"  said  the  sergeant,  "  was  sent  out  to 
you  at  the  front  by  Miss  So-fire  Browne  at  a  recent 
date." 

"  It  was,"  admitted  Bill.  So  that  was  how  they 
had  traced  him,  was  it  —  by  the  name  and  address 
of  Miss  Browne's  brother  written  on  the  fly-leaf? 
And  seeing  that  they  knew  so  much,  it  was  well 
for  him  that  he  had  not  after  all  denied  his  connec- 
tion with  the  book. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  under  what  circumstances  you 
relinquished  possession  of  the  volume  in  question?  " 


MRS.  GRANT'S  DIPLOMACY        257 

This  was  the  point  where  truth  must  begin  to  be 
tempered.  Bill  set  his  intuitive  faculty  busily  to 
work. 

"  Is  that  Latin  for  when  did  I  lose  it?  "  he  asked, 
more  with  the  idea  of  gaining  time  than  of  procuring 
information  or  even  of  insulting  the  policeman. 

"  None  o'  that,"  said  the  Arm  of  the  Law  majesti- 
cally. "  Answer  the  question.  When  did  you  see 
the  book  last?  " 

The  owner  of  the  notebook,  who  had  so  far  merely 
been  ticking  off  the  various  items  of  Bill's  description 
as  the  correctness  of  each  was  established,  realized 
that  the  heavy  part  of  his  task  was  now  just  about  to 
begin.  He  devoted  himself  to  suction  of  his  pencil- 
point  with  such  assiduity  that  he  began  to  look  as 
though  he  had  regaled  himself  heavily  with  black 
cherries. 

Bill,  his  mind  still  working  at  lightning  speed, 
gazed  at  the  amanuensis  in  apparent  fascination. 
His  object  was  to  invent  a  method  of  disposing  of  the 
book  which  while  being  credible  should  not  admit  of 
corroboration.  Supposing  he  said  he  had  lost  it  at 
Folkestone  on  his  way  home?  .  .  .  But  that  might 
raise  the  question  of  the  date  of  his  return  to  Eng- 
land, and  he  did  not  want  his  mother  to  know  that  he 
had  been  home  for  some  time  before  coming  to  her. 
He  might  manage  to  put  the  police  off,  but  once  his 
mother  had  got  hold  of  a  suspicious  fact,  there  was 
no  balking  her. 

"  Come  on,"  said  the  police  sergeant  impatiently. 
14  What's  the  matter  with  you?" 


258  ALF'S  BUTTON 

"  I  was  just  waitin'  till  the  Town  Clerk  'ere  was 
ready,"  he  explained  with  his  native  impudence. 
"  When  did  I  last  see  the  book?  I  don't  know  as  I 
can  remember  the  exact  day." 

"  Never  mind  that.  'Ow  did  you  come  to  lose 
it?" 

The  sergeant's  patience  was  wearing  thin.  Bill, 
who  had  now  had  time  to  think  out  his  story,  took 
a  deep  breath. 

"  Last  I  seen  of  it,"  he  said,  "  I  lent  it  to  a  chap 
in  the  Scottish  Rifles  what  come  into  our  dug-out 
one  night  —  name  o'  Conky.  'E  come  in  about 
twenty-past  eleven,  'avin'  lost  'is  way,  an'  'e 
sez  .  .  ." 

'  'Ere,"  said  the  constable  at  the  table,  speaking 
for  the  first  time.  "  Steady!  " 

"  'Ow  far  'ave  you  got  with  it?  "  asked  Bill  kindly. 

The  scribe,  with  beads  of  sweat  standing  out  on 
his  brow,  and  a  protruding  tongue  whose  tip  followed 
the  motions  of  his  pencil,  was  writing  madly. 

"  'Dug-out,'  "  he  quoted.  "  Name  o'  .  .  .  what 
did  you  say?  " 

"  Conky." 

"  That  ain't  no  good,"  interposed  the  sergeant 
with  severity.  "  Don't  waste  yer  time  takin'  down 
muck  o'  that  kind,  Collins.  What  was  'is  other 
name?  " 

"  Smith,  I  think,"  said  Grant,  his  fertile  brain 
casting  about  for  further  corroborative  detail  with 
which  to  give  artistic  verisimilitude  to  his  otherwise 
bald  and  unconvincing  narrative.  "  I  can't  be  sure, 
though." 


MRS.  GRANT'S  DIPLOMACY        259 

"  Well,"  said  the  sergeant  in  a  resigned  tone, 
"  what  did  'e  do,  any'ow?  " 

"  'E  took  the  book,"  resumed  the  romancer. 
"  An'  'e  said  'e'd  like  to  read  it.  So  I  lent  it  to  'im, 
an'  'e  promised  to  let  me  'ave  it  back  next  time  'e 
was  back  restin'  —  stop  me  if  I  go  too  fast,  Mr.  Col- 
lins —  an'  as  it  'appened  I  never  seed  'im  again." 

"  What  'appened  to  'im?  " 

"  I  dunno  for  certain.  But  I  did  'ear  a  rumor  as 
'ow  'e  got  nabbed,  poor  chap." 

"Captured?" 

"  Yes.  The  Boche  come  over  when  'is  battalion 
was  in  the  line." 

"  An'  'ow  about  the  book?  " 

Bill  considered  a  moment.  The  general  consensus 
of  opinion  throughout  the  country  insisted  on  regard- 
ing the  Denmore  Manor  affair  as  the  work  of  Ger- 
man spies.  In  Bill's  eyes  this  was  an  exceedingly 
satisfactory  opinion  for  the  country  to  hold.  He 
decided  to  give  the  country  a  little  assistance. 

"  The  book?  "  he  repeated  innocently.  "  I  s'pose 
the  Boche  captured  that,  too." 

Both  policemen  fell  into  the  trap.  Their  eyes  met 
in  a  stare  full  of  meaning. 

"  The  Boche !  "  exclaimed  the  sergeant.  "  Then 
it  was  a  spy  as  .  .  ."  He  paused,  remembering  his 
orders  not  to  divulge  to  his  victim  the  object  of  his 
questions. 

"  Look  'ere,"  said  Bill,  who  was  beginning  to 
enjoy  himself.  "What's  this  all  about,  any'ow? 
Where  did  you  get  the  book  from,  an'  what's  it  got 
to  do  with  the  police?  " 


260  ALF'S  BUTTON 

u  This  chap  Smith,  now,"  resumed  the  sergeant 
blandly,  ignoring  Bill's  questions.  "  What  sort  of 
a  lookin'  feller  might  'e  be,  now?  " 

Bill  pondered. 

"  Mind  you,"  he  said,  with  the  air  of  an  honest 
man  who  does  not  want  to  mislead  his  audience,  "  I 
can't  be  sure  'is  name  was  Smith.  Might  'a  been 
Brown  —  or  Thompson.  One  o'  them  common 
names,  any'ow.  'E  was  one  o'  them  middlin'  chaps, 
not  exactly  dark,  you  know  —  an'  yet  I  don't  know 
as  I  should  call  'im  fair.  'E  'ad  blue  eyes,  an'  'e 
said  'e  come  from  Lambeth.  P'raps  they'll  know  'im 
there." 

"  We  might  ask  the  recruiting  office,"  said  the 
sergeant  to  the  painstaking  Collins,  now  laboriously 
engaged  in  taking  down  Bill's  minute  description  of 
Mr.  "  Conky  "  Smith  (or  Brown  or  Thompson)  of 
Lambeth. 

"  You  might,"  agreed  Bill.  "  But  o'  course,"  he 
went  on  helpfully,  "  'e  might  not  'ave  been  in  Lam- 
beth when  'e  joined  up.  P'raps  'e  'listed  in  Scotland, 
seein'  'e  was  in  a  Jocks  regiment." 

The  sergeant  rose  to  his  feet  with  a  sigh.  He  had 
started  out  with  high  hopes,  but  now  he  felt  that  he 
was  not  very  much  further  forward  than  before  with 
the  Manor  Mystery. 

"  Well,"  he  said.  "  If  that's  all  you  knows,  I'll 
be  getting  along.  Good  afternoon,  mum.  Sorry  to 
'ave  troubled  you." 

Mrs.  Grant  gave  a  grunt,  and  looked  anything  but 
pleasant.  She  followed  her  visitors  to  the  door 


MRS.  GRANT'S  DIPLOMACY        261 

with  the  sourest  of  faces.  But  on  the  doorstep  her 
demeanor  changed  with  startling  suddenness.  She 
became  positively  effusive,  making  one  or  two  little 
jokes  at  which  the  sergeant,  puzzled,  but  relieved  at 
her  change  of  attitude,  roared  appreciatively. 
Finally  she  insisted  on  shaking  hands  with  both  offi- 
cers, and  as  they  tramped  off  down  the  street  she 
stood  at  her  door,  waving  her  hand  at  their  uncon- 
scious backs.  Having  thus  appeased  the  curiosity 
and  disappointed  the  hopes  of  all  the  dear  friends 
and  neighbors  who  had  been  waiting  in  ghoulish  joy 
to  find  out  the  nature  of  the  police  visit  to  her  house, 
she  returned  to  her  son,  who,  very  pleased  with  him- 
self, was  smiling  at  his  reflection  in  the  mirror. 

"  An'  now,"  she  said  briskly,  "  what's  all  this 
about,  eh?  What's  all  this  talk  about  books,  an' 
spies,  an'  Mr.  Bloomin'  Conky  o'  Lambeth,  eh?  " 

"  You  'eard  what  I  told  'im,"  said  Bill. 

"  Yes,  an'  I  knows  enough  about  you,  Bill  Grant, 
to  tell  when  you're  lyin'.  I  didn't  meet  yer  this 
week  for  the  first  time.  Now  let's  'ave  the  truth. 
What  d'you  mean  by  bringin'  the  police  into  a  re- 
spectable 'ouse,  eh?" 

Bill  looked  round  him  in  hunted  fashion.  Then, 
obeying  his  lifelong  instinct  that  in  dealing  with  his 
mother,  discretion  was  the  better  part  of  valor,  he 
picked  up  his  cap  and  backed  to  the  door.  He 
mumbled  something  about — "Step  out  an'  'ave  a 
look  round  "  —  and  was  gone. 

His  mother  glared  furiously  at  the  door.  If  only 
she  had  thought  to  lock  it  when  the  policemen  went ! 


262  ALPS  BUTTON 

But  -she  wasted  no  time  in  useless  regrets.  When 
Bill  came  back  to  supper  she'd  get  it  all  out  of  him. 
Meanwhile  it  might  be  as  well  to  go  out  and  explain 
to  one  or  two  neighbors  how  her  two  cousins  in  the 
police  force  had  been  to  see  her.  She  put  on  her 
bonnet  and  went. 

Bill,  skulking  at  the  corner  of  the  street,  waited 
till  she  was  out  of  sight.  Then,  slipping  into  the 
house,  he  collected  his  kit  and  his  rifle,  and  went  to 
a  Y.M.C.A.  at  Victoria,  and  there  he  spent  the  night. 
Mrs.  Grant  did  not  see  her  son  again  before  he  de- 
parted for  the  front;  she  was  thus  free  to  invent  her 
own  reasons  for  his  visit  from  the  police.  But  she 
never  connected  Bill  with  the  statement  which  ap- 
peared subsequently  in  the  less  dignified  newspapers. 

"  The  Denmore  Manor  Mystery  still  continues  to 
baffle  the  most  acute  intellects  of  the  police  force.  It 
is,  however,  certain,  from  evidence  of  the  most  un- 
impeachable nature,  that  the  whole  affair  is  a  plot  of 
German  intrigue  and  the  Hidden  Hand.  When  will 
the  Government  .  .  .?  Etc.,  etc." 

Bill,  on  the  steamer  crossing  from  England  to 
France,  read  this  passage  aloud  to  Alf,  to  whom  he 
had  already  recounted  the  story  of  "  Conky." 

"  You  are  a  one,  Bill,"  said  Higgins,  quite  in  his 
ancient  vein  of  fervent  admiration. 

Bill  merely  looked  self-conscious.  He  felt  that 
the  tribute  was  no  more  than  his  due. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE    FATE   OF   THE    BUTTON 

NEITHER  of  the  two  friends  could  have  said 
with  truth  that  he  was  sorry  to  see  France 
once  more. 

Alf  had  a.  feeling  that  now,  at  any  rate,  his  dis- 
astrous venture  into  high  life  and  the  public  eye  was 
really  behind  him.  He  could  slip  back  thankfully 
into  his  old  routine  as  an  unconsidered  cog  in  an 
enormous  machine,  and  be  lost  in  the  friendly  obscur- 
ity. The  Button  still  hung  from  its  string  round  his 
neck.  He  determined  that  it  should  continue  to 
hang  there;  he  was  afraid  to  dispose  of  it,  in  case 
it  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  some  other  man  and 
be  used  for  unimaginable  evil.  He  had  an  almost 
fanatical  determination  that  he  himself  should  never 
again  test  the  Button's  supernatural  powers;  but 
in  addition,  he  felt  that  he  had  a  sacred  charge  to 
prevent  anybody  else  from  doing  so.  When  he  had 
left  the  Base  and  was  already  in  the  leave  train  and 
bound  for  the  line,  he  realized  that  his  best  course 
would  have  been  to  drop  the  Button  into  the  sea 
on  his  way  across.  But  the  idea  came  to  him — as 
ideas  generally  came  to  Alf  —  too  late. 

Bill's  feeling  towards  France  was  different.  He 
had  no  love  for  the  place  in  itself;  but  considered  as 
a  mere  means  to  his  great  end,  it  had  its  uses.  Now 
that  he  and  Alf  were  back  in  the  grip  of  the  military 
life,  where  no  man  can  avoid  his  neighbor  without 

263 


264  ALF'S  BUTTON 

that  neighbor's  connivance  —  and  sometimes  not 
even  then  —  he  hoped  and  believed  that  he  would 
find  an  early  opportunity  of  obtaining  the  Button 
from  its  unappreciative  owner;  and  then  —  good  by 
forever  to  France  and  all  that  it  stood  for. 

No  reference  to  the  Button  was  ever  allowed  to 
creep  into  his  conversation  now.  The  simple- 
minded  Alf ,  if  he  noticed  this  at  all,  thought  it  meant 
that  Bill  had  forgotten  about  it.  But  Bill  had  not 
forgotten.  He  was  merely  biding  his  time. 

The  battalion  was  in  billets  when  the  two  men 
rejoined  it.  They  reported  themselves  to  C.S.M. 
French,  who  directed  them  to  their  own  platoon. 

"  'Ullo,"  said  Sergeant  Lees,  when  they  appeared 
before  him.  "  So  you're  back,  are  yer?  Well,  just 
you  be'ave  yerselves,  see?  I  got  as  much  on  me 
'ands  as  I  can  blinkin'  well  stand  without  'avin'  any 
trouble  from  you."' 

They  found  their  own  section  installed  in  a  small 
barn.  Corporal  Greenstock,  like  his  superior, 
greeted  them  without  enthusiasm.  They  settled 
down  amid  the  straw. 

"  Well,  and  how  is  Blighty?  "  asked  Private  Den- 
ham. 

"  All  right.  I  ain't  sorry  to  be  back,"  replied 
Bill.  There  were  cries  of  incredulity  from  the  sec- 
tion. 

"  Easy  enough  to  talk,"  Walls  remarked. 

"  Well,  it's  true." 

"  It  won't  stay  true  long,  anyhow." 

"Why  not?" 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  BUTTON      265 

"  We're  off  up  the  line  in  a  few  days.  Into  a 
lively  bit,  too." 

"Ah!"  commented  Bill.  "I  thought  the  ser- 
geant seemed  to  'ave  something  on  'is  mind." 

"  But  that's  not  all.     We  got  a  new  officer." 

"  The  devil  we  'ave.     What's  'e  like  ?  " 

"  Wait  an'  see.     You  will,  fast  enough." 

Alf,  who  had  so  far  had  a  listening  part  only, 
made  a  remark. 

"  Cap'en  Richards  back?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  week  ago,"  said  the  corporal.  "  But  they've 
took  Donaldson  away  to  be  O.C.  '  A  '  Company. 
'E's  -a  captain  now." 

Alf  was  much  relieved  at  this  information.  He 
had  a  great  admiration  for  Donaldson,  but  was 
afraid  of  that  officer's  exceedingly  sharp  eye  and  his 
habit  of  asking  awkward  questions.  Bill  also 
felt  that  this  latest  move  of  the  Powers  that  were, 
augured  well  for  his  scheme. 

"  'Shun !  "  yelled  Corporal  Greenstock  suddenly. 
The  section  rose  to  its  feet  in  the  straw  as  Sergeant 
Lees  entered,  followed  by  the  platoon  commander. 

Second-Lieutenant  Stockley  was  a  man  of  about 
forty  years  of  age,  as  his  grizzled  hair  testified.  He 
was  a  big  man,  with  a  splendid  pair  of  well-drilled 
shoulders,  and  a  broad  chest  which  showed  up  to  the 
best  advantage  an  imposing  row  of  medal-ribbons. 
Altogether  he  looked,  to  the  casual  glance,  far  more 
like  a  distinguished  colonel  than  a  junior  subaltern. 
He  was,  in  fact,  an  ex-sergeant-major,  promoted  for 
gallantry  in  the  field. 


266  ALF'S  BUTTON 

His  inspection  of  the  section  billet  was  carried  out 
with  a  thoroughness  hitherto  unheard  of.  He  di- 
rected Corporal  Greenstock's  attention  to  a  hole  in 
the  roof  with  an  air  of  faint  reproof  which  sug- 
gested that  a  really  efficient  N.C.O.  would  have 
remedied  such  defects  without  being  told;  after  which 
the  usually  imperturbable  corporal,  losing  his  nerve 
entirely,  followed  his  platoon  commander  round  the 
billet  agitatedly  explaining  away  defects  before  the 
officer  had  time  to  criticise.  Sergeant  Lees,  who  was 
accustomed  with  the  ordinary  subaltern  to  act  as 
spokesman  and  master  of  the  ceremonies,  hung  about 
anxiously  in  the  offing.  Even  he  was  plainly  feeling 
the  strain  of  living  up  to  this  super-efficient  new 
officer.  Bill  began  to  understand  why  he  had 
seemed  to  have  "  something  on  his  mind." 

As  Mr.  Stockley  concluded  his  examination  and 
turned  to  go,  his  eye  rested  on  Alf  and  Bill. 

"  Two  men  here  I  don't  know,  sergeant,"  he  said. 
"  Names,  please." 

"  Higgins  and  Grant,  sir." 

"Where  from?" 

"  Leave,  sir." 

"Umph!     Corporal!!" 

"Sir!" 

Corporal  Greenstock's  attitude  of  attention  might 
well  have  been  photographed  and  used  as  a  model 
for  recruits. 

"  See  those  two  get  cleaned  up  before  I  see  them 
again.  May  do  for  Blighty,  won't  do  for  me." 

Bill  looked  after  the  officer's  retreating  form. 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  BUTTON      267 

"  Lumme !  "  he  commented.     "  'Ot  stuff,  eh?  " 

"  You  bet,"  said  the  corporal.  "  An'  arter  what 
'e  said  you'd  better  be  'ot  stuff  too,  my  lad,  by  to- 
morrow, or  Vll  be  biting  you  in  the  neck  —  an'  me, 
too." 

"  'As  'e  been  in  the  line  yet?  "  asked  Alf. 

"  Not  with  us,  'e  'asn't.  But  'e  was  a  fair  terror 
with  'is  old  battalion,  they  say.  'E's  killed  nigh  on 
fifty  Fritzies  'imself,  first  an'  last,  an'  on'y  for  a  bit 
o'  bad  luck  'e'd  'ave  'ad  the  V.C.  Some  soldier!  " 

"  I  expect,"  put  in  a  gloomy  voice,  "  as  'ow  Vs 
one  o'  these  'ere  interferin'  fellers  as  can't  let  well 
alone.  When  'e  gets  into  the  trenches  'e'll  never  be 
satisfied  with  a  quiet  life,  you'll  see." 

Corporal  Greenstock  grinned. 

"Quiet  life?"  he  said.  "Not  much!  This 
blinkin'  platoon'll  spend  all  its  time  crawlin'  about 
No-Man's  Land  on  its  stummick,  when  it  ain't  doin' 
bombing  raids  into  Fritz's  trenches.  You'll  see." 

Bill  had  an  instinctive  feeling  that  the  corporal 
was  right.  Mr.  Stockley  had  the  air  of  a  man  who 
did  not  do  things  by  halves;  and  the  ribbons  of  the 
Military  Medal,  the  D.C.M.  and  the  Military 
Cross  (a  distinction  only  rarely  conferred  on  ser- 
geant-majors) testified  to  his  fighting  qualities.  As 
to  his  thoroughness  on  parade,  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore both  Higgins  and  Grant  became  painfully  aware 
of  that.  Their  long  spell  of  leave  had  left  them 
rather  out  of  touch  with  military  life,  and  they  fell 
very  far  short  of  their  new  commander's  minimum 
standard. 


268  ALFS  BUTTON 

"  This  life  ain't  what  it  was,  Alf,"  Bill  confided 
one  day,  busy  with  oil-bottle  and  pull-through  on  the 
working  parts  of  his  rifle. 

Alf  said  nothing.  His  temper  was  ruffled.  He 
was  engaged  in  polishing  to  a  dazzling  brightness  a 
bayonet  which  he  considered  was  already  as  clean  as 
any  reasonable  man  could  desire ;  he  had  a  constitu- 
tional objection  to  gilding  refined  gold  and  to  paint- 
ing lilies  —  an  objection,  however,  which  was  not 
shared  by  his  officer.  He  continued  to  polish  in 
morose  silence. 

Bill  fell  into  a  brown  study.  The  more  he  saw 
of  Mr.  Stockley  the  more  he  admired  him  and  the 
more  bitterly  he  cursed  the  fate  that  had  thrown 
them  together.  Stories  of  Stockley' s  dare-devil 
deeds  and  hairbreadth  escapes  were  circulating  freely 
about  the  battalion,  and  the  more  Grant  heard  the 
less  he  liked  the  prospect  of  venturing  into  the  line 
under  the  leadership  of  such  a  firebrand.  Bill  was 
by  nature  a  peaceable  person,  who  considered  his 
duty  to  his  country  was  done  so  long  as  he  helped 
to  man  the  front  line  from  time  to  time,  and  also 
occasionally,  in  a  decent,  well-ordered  manner,  went 
over  the  top.  He  regarded  the  energetic  dare- 
devilry  by  which  Stockley  interpreted  the  word 
"  warfare  "  as  he  would  have  regarded  big-game 
hunting  —  an  amusement  to  be  restricted  entirely  to 
such  lunatics  as  liked  it.  The  thought  of  spending 
his  time  crawling  about  No-Man's  Land  filled  him 
with  forebodings,  and  gave  him  a  new  and  powerful 
reason  for  attempting  to  obtain  the  Button  from  Alf 
at  the  earliest  possible  moment. 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  BUTTON      269 

He  began  to  watch  the  unconscious  Alf  and  to 
shadow  him  after  the  manner  of  the  lynx-eyed  detec- 
tive of  fiction;  but  somehow  time  slipped  away  with- 
out giving  him  the  opportunity  he  sought.  One 
thing  was  certain;  he  must  make  quite  sure  of  the 
success  of  any  scheme  before  he  put  it  into  execution. 
One  false  step  —  one  bungled  attempt  would  ruin 
all  his  hopes;  Bill  was  confident  that  if  once  Alf's 
suspicions  were  roused,  he  would  get  rid  of  the  talis- 
man altogether  —  possibly,  for  instance,  by  burying 
it.  The  problem  was  in  consequence  not  an  easy 
one,  and  Bill  was  no  nearer  its  solution  when,  on 
the  third  day  following  their  return,  the  brigade 
received  its  marching  order  for  the  forward 
area. 

Time  was  growing  short;  but  fate  played  into 
Bill's  hands,  granting  him  at  any  rate  a  brief  respite. 
The  5th  Battalion  was  to  be  in  Reserve  to  begin 
with. 

"Huh!"  said  Alf.  "Workin'  parties  for  us. 
'Ow  very  nice  !  " 

Sergeant  Lees,  who  happened  to  be  present,  caught 
this  remark,  and  turned  to  the  speaker  in  well-simu- 
lated surprise. 

"  Why,  'Iggins,"  he  said,  "  I  wonder  at  yer. 
On'y  a  month  ago,  before  you  went  on  leave,  you  was 
that  fond  o'  workin'  parties  there  was  no  keepin'  you 
off  'em." 

Alf,  who  had  learnt  by  experience  the  curious 
nature  of  his  sergeant's  sense  of  humor,  gave  a  sickly 
smile  and  said  nothing.  The  section  sniggered 
sycophantically. 


270  ALPS  BUTTON 

On  the  march  next  day,  both  the  friends  found  to 
their  cost  that  a  sybaritic  life  in  the  lap  of  luxury 
is  not  the  best  preparation  for  an  active-service 
route  march.  The  first  halt  saw  them  not  only  badly 
blown  and  streaming  with  sweat,  but  also  beginning 
to  be  footsore. 

"  Umph !  "  said  the  sergeant  caustically.  "  It's 
easy  to  see  'ow  some  people  spend  their  leave. 
What  you  two  want  is  a  little  'ard  P.T.  'Owever, 
some  o'  these  working  parties  you're  so  fond  of  '11 
soon  put  you  right." 

Sergeant  Lees  was  an  economical  humorist. 

Soon  a  whistle  blew,  and  the  column  fell  in  again. 
At  every  step  the  poor  condition  of  Privates  Higgins 
and  Grant  became  more  noticeable,  and  the  rest  of 
the  section,  swinging  along  in  fine  style,  only  showed 
them  up  more  plainly.  The  weight  of  their  packs 
began  to  increase  steadily  and  relentlessly,  until  it 
seemed  that  something  must  break  soon.  A  dull 
pain  began  to  make  itself  felt  across  their  shoulders, 
increasing  little  by  little  until  it  became  a  raging  tor- 
ment like  a  toothache.  They  set  their  teeth  and 
plodded  on;  the  battalion  was  proud  of  its  march- 
ing. At  last,  when  the  pain  was  wellnigh  unbear- 
able, the  blessed  sound  of  the  whistle  was  heard. 
The  battalion  fell  out  for  another  ten  minutes' 
halt. 

The  expression  ''  fell  out  "  was  true  in  its  most 
literal  sense  of  Alf  and  Bill.  They  lay  side  by  side, 
every  aching  muscle  relaxed,  determined  to  make 
good  use  of  every  second  of  their  rest. 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  BUTTON       271 

It  was  at  this  auspicious  moment  that  Mr.  Stockley 
chose  to  notice  them. 

He  himself  seemed  as  fresh  as  when  he  started 
out,  despite  the  fact  that  he  had  been  carrying  two 
men's  rifles  in  addition  to  his  own  kit.  He  came 
swinging  along  the  road  during  the  halt  with  a 
jaunty  step  and  an  air  of  physical  well-being  which 
it  made  Alf  and  Bill  feel  faint  to  look  upon. 

He  stopped  and  regarded  the  collapsed  forms  of 
the  two  friends  with  a  disapproving  air. 

"  Very  out  of  condition,"  he  commented.  They 
made  convulsive  efforts  to  rise,  but  he  waved  them 
back.  "  No,  no  I  "  he  said.  "  Lie  still.  Need  a 
rest.  But  warn  you  —  won't  do.  Going  into  the 
line;  every  man  must  be  fit  for  anything.  Must 
sweat  off  that  fat." 

He  went  off,  leaving  the  two  men  more  conscious 
of  their  flabbiness  than  ever. 

"  Makes  me  tired,  'e  do,"  complained  Bill.  "  I 
don't  b'lieve  I  can  march  another  step.  I've  a  good 
mind  not  to  fall  in  at  all." 

But  at  this  moment  a  welcome  message  reached 
them  from  the  head  of  the  column.  Their  destina- 
tion, it  appeared,  was  now  only  half  an  hour's  march 
away;  and  as  they  were  now  entering  the  forward 
area,  platoons  would  march  from  here  at  intervals  of 
a  hundred  yards.  As  the  companies  were  marching 
in  alphabetical  order,  this  meant  that  "  C  "  Com- 
pany would  have  a  further  rest  while  "  A  "  and  "  B  " 
were  getting  under  way.  Alf  and  Bill,  giving 
much  thanks  for  this  relief,  lay  down  again;  and 


272  ALPS  BUTTON 

when  at  last  No.  9  Platoon  moved  on  again  they 
.were  able  to  move  with  it  in  comparative  comfort. 

That  night,  when  every  occupant  of  his  dug-out 
had  at  long  last  dropped  off  to  sleep,  Bill  lay  awake, 
tingling  with  excitement.  Striking  a  match  with  the 
utmost  caution,  he  fished  out  from  his  tunic  pocket 
an  enormous  clasp-knife,  which  he  opened.  Then 
he  lit  a  piece  of  candle-end  and,  shading  it  carefully 
with  his  hand,  he  leant  over  the  sleeping  form  of  his 
mate;  but  all  he  could  see  was  a  tightly  rolled  and 
shapeless  cocoon.  Alf 's  method  of  using  his  blanket 
left  Bill  no  possible  chance  of  getting  at  the  string 
which  bore  the  Button. 

One  of  the  men  stirred  in  his  sleep,  and  Bill,  ex- 
tinguishing his  light,  gave  himself  up  to  slumber  in 
a  very  disturbed  state  of  mind.  Come  what  might, 
by  some  means  or  other  he  must  get  that  Button  in 
time  to  prevent  No.  9  Platoon  from  being  let  into  the 
front  line  by  its  present  commander. 

Next  day,  things  became  worse  than  ever.  Mr. 
Stockley  was  detailed  to  take  out  a  working-party 
consisting  of  his  own  platoon  and  to  dig  a  length  of 
trench  behind  the  British  lines.  He  took  this  oppor- 
tunity of  beginning  the  process  of  sweating  the  fat 
off  Alf  and  Bill.  He  himself,  with  his  coat  off  and 
his  immense  arms  bare  to  the  elbow,  was  doing  two 
men's  work;  and  he  made  it  his  personal  duty  to  see 
that  Higgins  and  Grant  did  at  least  two  men's  work 
between  them. 

At  the  end  of  the  day's  work  both  men  were  stiffer 
than  they  had  dreamt  possible ;  they  went  through  a 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  BUTTON      273 

pantomime  expressive  of  acute  agony,  which 
Stockley  saw  —  as  he  was  intended  to. 

He  laughed. 

"  Thank  me  later,"  he  said.  "  Stiff  time  coming 
in  front  line.  Must  be  fit.  May  save  your  lives." 

And  he  fell  his  party  in  and  marched  it  back  to  the 
lines. 

The  position  was  fast  becoming  impossible.  Bill's 
determination  not  to  trust  himself  in  the  line  under 
Stockley's  command  had  become  a  raging  obsession, 
and  yet  he  could  see  no  way  of  getting  the  Button. 
That  night  he  morosely  watched  his  unconscious 
friend  making  himself  into  a  chrysalis  for  the  night. 

"  Alf,"  he  said  with  guile,  "  don't  you  feel  it 
'orrid  'ot  these  nights,  rolled  up  in  a  great  thick 
blanket  like  that?  " 

"  I  likes  to  be  warm  at  night,"  answered  a  muffled 
voice  from  within  the  folds. 

"  But  it's  so  un'ealthy,"  urged  Bill. 

Alf's  tousled  head  and  astonished  face  appeared 
at  one  end  of  the  cocoon. 

"  Ho !  "  he  said  suspiciously.  "  And  since  when 
'ave  you  been  troubling  your  'ed  about  my  'ealth,  eh?" 

Bill  abandoned  the  topic,  feeling  very  annoyed. 
If  the  simple  Alf  was  beginning  so  readily  to  ques- 
tion the  purity  of  his  motives,  he  foresaw  that  he 
would  have  to  take  desperate  risks.  He  would  have 
to  lure  his  friend  into  a  remote  spot  and  extract  the 
Button  from  him  by  the  old  "  Stand-and-Deliver  " 
method.  But  this  method  had  the  disadvantage  that 
Bill  was  not  at  all  sure  that,  man  to  man,  Alf  was 


274  ALPS  BUTTON 

not  the  stronger  of  the  two.  He  must  rely  on  the 
essence  of  strategy  —  surprise.  But  how?  And 
when?  .  .  .  He  passed  a  disturbed  night;  and  the 
sounds  of  peaceful  slumber  proceeding  from  the 
apparently  hermetically  sealed  bundle  at  his  side 
failed  to  soothe  him  in  any  way. 

Next  morning,  Sergeant  Lees  appeared  in  the  dug- 
out with  the  exasperatingly  superior  air  he  always 
assumed  when  he  had  important  or  interesting  news 
to  tell.  After  his  custom  at  such  times,  he  dis- 
tributed trivial  orders  and  asked  unimportant  ques- 
tions until  the  men  about  him  were  on  the  verge 
of  apoplexy  from  sheer  irritation  and  excitement. 
Then  he  produced  an  item  of  news. 

'  We  move  up  into  support  to-morrow,  relievin' 
the  4th,"  he  stated.  "  Front  line  four  days  later.'' 

There  was  a  general  movement  of  disappointment. 
Most  of  the  men  would  quite  certainly  have  pre- 
ferred to  move  straight  up  into  the  line  and  get  their 
tour  of  duty  therein  finished.  There  was  a  general 
impression  abroad  that  things  were  gradually  blow- 
ing up  to  a  storm,  and  that  the  brigade's  last  four 
days  in  the  front  trenches  would  be  the  worst.  The 
pessimists  were  unanimously  of  opinion  that  the  5th 
Battalion  had  been  allotted  these  four  days  owing  to 
malice  aforethought  on  the  part  of  the  Higher  Com- 
mand. 

"  It'll  be  a  thick  time,"  said  somebody. 

"  Yes,"  agreed  somebody  else.  "  Especially  with 
'im  in  charge." 

Then  Sergeant  Lees,  with  the  air  of  a   careful 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  BUTTON      275 

dramatist  who  is  congratulating  himself  that  he  has 
succeeded  in  keeping  his  big  thrill  till  the  very  end  of 
his  play,  added  his  second  piece  of  news. 

"  Lootenant  Stockley  is  leavin'  us  to-day,  for  to 
undergo  a  course  at  one  of  these  'ere  schools,  or 
something." 

"  Lumme !  "  said  an  awed  voice.  "  What  the  'ell 
do  they  think  they  can  teach  'im?  " 

Bill,  when  he  heard  the  sergeant's  news,  felt  like 
a  condemned  criminal  who  is  reprieved  just  as  the 
hangman  is  fitting  the  rope  round  his  neck.  He  was 
now  sure  of  getting  the  two  things  he  had  lacked  so 
far  for  the  fulfillment  of  his  scheme  —  time  and  op- 
portunity. Time,  because  Mr.  Stockley  would  now 
not  be  in  charge  of  the  platoon ;  opportunity,  because 
in  the  support  lines  Alf  would  no  longer  enjoy  the 
protection  of  his  beloved  blanket. 

In  fact,  orders  for  their  -immediate  collection  and 
delivery  to  the  quartermaster  were  even  now  on 
their  way  round  the  battalion  by  the  hands  of  "  run- 
ners." Bill  had  a  vision  of  Alf  sleeping  with  open 
tunic  and  bare  neck,  and  he  realized  that  to  a  patient 
and  watchful  conspirator  the  Rape  of  the  Button 
could  only  be  a  matter  of  days  —  perhaps  of  hours. 
And  once  the  Button  had  changed  hands,  the  fear- 
ful souls  who  had  prophesied  that  the  5th  Battalion's 
next  tour  in  the  trenches  would  be  full  of  battle,  mur- 
der and  sudden  death,  might  take  fresh  courage. 
That  tour  of  duty  would  never  come.  The  War 
would  be  over  —  or  if  not  over,  it  would  have  de- 
volved into  a  route-march.  And  then  . 


276  ALPS  BUTTON 

Bill  never  allowed  his  imagination  to  tempt  him 
beyond  this  point.  Sufficient  for  the  day  was  the 
miracle  thereof.  Let  him  once  get  hold  of  the  But- 
ton and  he  and  Eustace  would  not  be  at  any  loss  what 
to  do.  Only,  behind  and  beyond  his  earth-shaking 
schemes  for  the  good  of  his  country  was  one  very 
definite  and  private  project  closely  connected  with 
his  vanished  handmaid  Lucy  and  his  interrupted  sup- 
ply of  beer.  But  this  idea  was  never  allowed  to 
encroach  upon  his  mind  too  much;  he  never  forgot 
that  before  he  could  realize  it,  broader  issues  were 
to  be  dealt  with. 

On  the  following  day  the  battalion  moved  up 
into  the  support  line  and  settled  down  into  its  new 
dug-outs  with  the  speed  that  only  comes  with  experi- 
ence. During  the  relief  there  was  a  certain  amount 
of  shelling  going  on,  but  there  were  no  casualties. 
"  C  "  Company  was  distributed  to  its  dug-outs  with- 
out undue  fuss.  Captain  Richards,  going  the  round 
of  his  company,  gave  a  .word  of  advice. 

"  Get  what  sleep  you  can,  you  men,"  he  said. 
"  They're  very  jumpy  to-night  in  the  front  line,  and 
you  may  have  to  tumble  out  at  any  minute.  Keep 
your  equipment  by  you  and  your  boots  on." 

Bill  and  Alf  were  allotted  with  four  others  to  a 
small  dug-out.  Bill,  whose  mind  was  still  bent  on 
his  single  aim,  piloted  his  friend  into  a  recess  in 
which  there  was  room  for  two  only;  and  all  six 
loosening  their  tunics  and  the  belts  of  their  equip- 
ment, settled  themselves  to  sleep.  Bill,  who  had  de- 
termined to  lie  awake  watching  his  chance,  was  the 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  BUTTON      277 

first  man  to  go  to  sleep;  and,  as  the  irony  of  fate 
would  have  it,  Alf  selected  this  time  of  all  others  to 
turn  upon  his  back  and  remain  in  that  position.  His 
opened  tunic  fell  away  from  his  neck,  and  the  talis- 
man lay  in  the  little  hollow  between  his  collar-bones 
—  the  easiest  of  preys  for  the  patient  and  watchful 
conspirator  aforesaid.  A  couple  of  hours  passed  in 
which  nothing  could  be  heard  in  the  dugout  but  a 
nasal  sextet  of  harmony  and  power,  to  which  the 
guns  far  above  supplied  a  desultory  obbligato. 

At  length  a  cautious  footfall  sounded  on  the  stair, 
and  Sergeant  Lees  appeared.  He  flashed  his  electric 
torch  round  the  dug-out,  then  he  went  to  each  of  the 
recumbent  forms  on  the  floor  and  shook  them. 

"  You  four,"  he  whispered,  careful  not  to  wake  the 
two  in  the  recess,  of  whom  he  could  see  nothing  but 
boot-soles.  "  Come  up  to  Company  H.Q.  at  once. 
The  Captain's  got  a  job  for  you.  Quiet,  now." 

But  quiet  as  they  were,  they  woke  Bill.  He  sat 
up  dazedly,  wondering  where  the  others  had  gone. 
He  was  seized  with  a  wild  panic.  Had  they  missed 
him  out  by  accident?  Ought  he  to  follow?  Then 
he  realized  that  he  was  not  quite  alone.  Alf,  who 
had  taken  the  bass  part  in  the  recent  sextet,  was 
maintaining  it  as  a  sok)  with  undiminished  vigor. 

Grant  struck  a  match  and  held  it  above  his  head, 
and  realized  that  here  at  last  was  his  opportunity. 
He  was  alone  with  Alf  in  the  dug-out  —  and  there, 
before  his  eyes,  was  the  longed-for  Button.  Trem- 
bling with  excitement,  he  fished  out  his  haversack  and 
produced  an  ancient  and  depressed-looking  piece  of 


278  ALF'S  BUTTON 

candle,  lit  it,  and  stuck  it  on  a  beam.  Then  he  drew 
his  bayonet,  and  leant  over  his  friend.  Cautiously, 
not  daring  to  breathe,  he  inserted  the  point  of  his 
weapon  beneath  the  string  that  bore  the  talisman. 
One  sharp  cut,  and  the  Button  would  be  his.  His 
hand  shook  on  the  handle  of  the  bayonet  so  violently 
that  the  point  rattled  on  Alf 's  collar-bone ;  and  Alf 's 
eyes  opened. 

It  must  have  been  sufficiently  terrifying  to  him, 
awaking  from  a  deep  sleep,  to  find  a  grimy  man 
kneeling  over  him  in  the  eerie  light  of  a  sputtering 
candle-end,  and  holding  a  naked  bayonet  to  his 
throat.  He  lay  as  still  as  death,  and  his  round  blue 
eyes  widened  until  they  seemed  to  protrude  from 
their  sockets. 

Bill  had  gone  too  far  now  to  hesitate  or  turn  back. 

"  If  you  move  a  finger,  Alf  'Iggins,"  he  said,  in  a 
melodramatic  whisper,  "  it  is  your  last.  I'm  goin' 
to  'ave  that  Button." 

The  bayonet  jerked  up  as  the  string  snapped,  and 
Bill,  reaching  out,  felt  his  fingers  close  at  last  upon 
the  object  of  his  desires. 

Alf's  wits  came  back  to  him.     He  sat  up. 

"  Gimme  that  back,"  he  ordered  violently. 
"  'Tain't  yours.  Gimme  it !  " 

"Not  much!"  answered  Bill.  u  Now  for  it! 
Now  for  Kaiser  Bill  and  the  end  o'  the  war ! !  What- 
oh!  Now  for  .  .  .  Lumme,  what  the  'ell's  that?  " 

"  That  "  was  a  sudden  terrific  bombardment  which 
broke  out  overhead,  of  an  intensity  which  made  the 
dug-out  walls  quiver.  As  they  stood  listening  open- 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  BUTTON       279 

mouthed,  a  thin  voice  —  the  voice  of  Corporal 
Greenstock  —  floated  down  the  staircase  to  them. 

"  Tumble  out  there,  quickly,"  it  said.  "  The 
Boche  is  comin'  over."  A  pause.  "  D'you  'ear 
me?" 

"  Comin',  corp'ril,"  shouted  Bill.  All  thought  of 
Eustace,  the  Button,  the  Kaiser  —  everything  had 
vanished  instantly  from  his  mind.  He  thrust  the 
precious  Button  carelessly  into  a  pocket,  grabbed  his 
rifle  and  tore  upstairs,  followed  by  Alf.  Then  they 
found  themselves  doubling  up  a  communication 
trench  under  the  leadership  of  Lieutenant  Shaw. 
Nobody  seemed  to  know  what  had  happened,  or 
exactly  what  they  were  going  to  do  —  except  that 
they  were  going  to  kill  Boches. 

The  German  guns  were  shelling  the  communica- 
tion trenches  to  prevent  the  British  supports  from 
coming  up,  and  whizz-bangs  were  bursting  all  about 
them.  But  they  had  no  time  to  pay  attention  to 
details  of  that  kind  —  the  one  desire  was  to  get  on 
and  into  the  front  line.  At  last  they  turned  a  corner, 
and  plunged  into  the  thick  of  a  hand-to-hand  struggle. 
Neither  Alf  nor  Bill  had  a  very  coherent  memory  of 
what  happened  in  the  next  few  minutes.  They  re- 
member heaving  and  hacking  and  stabbing  at  innu- 
merable greasy  Huns.  Then  suddenly  the  Huns 
seemed  to  melt  away  and  disappear;  the  two  men 
realized  dimly  that  the  trench  was  cleared  and  the 
enemy  in  flight,  and  they  sat  down  to  rest,  feeling 
dizzy  and  badly  winded. 

But  as  soon  as  the  raiding  party  were  clear  of  the 


280  ALPS  BUTTON 

British  trenches  the  guns  began  again.  A  whizz- 
bang  dropped  into  the  trench  where  the  two  friends 
were  sitting,  and  burst.  That  was  the  last  thing 
that  Bill  Grant  knew  until  he  woke  some  days  later 
to  find  himself  in  a  Casualty  Clearing  Station. 

A  Sister  came  towards  him. 

"  Awake  at  last,"  she  said  cheerily. 

He  stared  stupidly  at  her. 

"Where  am  I?"  he  said.  "Where's  Alf 
Tggins?" 

"  Next  bed,  ole  son,"  said  a  weak  voice.  "  Leg 
broke." 

Bill  pondered  this  information  for  a  space.  Then 
a  thought  struck  him  and  he  sat  up  with  a  jerk.  The 
Sister  came  over  to  him. 

"  You  must  lie  down  and  keep  quiet,"  she  said. 

"  The  Button !  "  exclaimed  Bill  fiercely. 

The  Sister  looked  anxious. 

"  There,  there !  "  she  said,  in  a  soothing  tone. 
"  Just  lie  down  and  be  quiet.  You  were  knocked 
silly  by  a  shell,  you  know,  but  you're  all  right  now. 
Lie  down  at  once." 

"  I  want  my  Button,"  he  reiterated,  struggling 
with  her.  "  Gimme  my  Button,  an'  I'll  lie  down." 

The  Sister  turned  to  Alf. 

"What  does  he  mean?"  she  asked  quietly.  "  I 
believe  he's  wandering." 

"  No,  no !  "  said  Alf.  "  The  Button.  It's  most 
important." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  Sister,  mystified  but  relieved 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  BUTTON       281 

that  Bill  was  apparently  not  raving  after  all. 
"  Your  tunic  was  in  such  a  mess  it  was  burnt,  but  I 
kept  your  buttons  and  the  things  in  your  pockets. 
I'll  get  them,  if  you'll  lie  still." 

She  produced  a  collection  of  miscellaneous  rubbish. 
Bill  sorted  out  the  buttons  and  rubbed  each  one  in 
turn  feverishly,  forgetful  of  the  probable  effect  on 
the  Sister  if  Eustace  had  suddenly  appeared.  But 
he  did  not. 

"  Duds,  all  of  'em,"  said  Bill  dismally. 
"  Lumme !  What  did  I  do  with  it.  ...  I 
know !  "  He  shouted  in  sudden  inspiration.  "  I 
put  it  in  me  right-' and  trouser-pocket.  Sister,  do 
please  'ave  a  look  in  me  trousers.  Please !  " 

The  two  men  waited  in  a  tense  silence  till  she 
returned. 

"  Now,"  she  said  severely.  "  No  more  non- 
sense, please.  You  must  both  lie  down  and  keep 
quiet.  There's  nothing  in  your  trousers  pockets 
except  a  large  hole." 


THE    END 


A     000103602     9 


